


Pay The Price

by Leef



Series: Closer [2]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 18-Year-Old Carl, Aged-Up Character(s), As well, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, So be warned, aggressive Negan, and SMUT, and there'll be, and with, but smut will come later, no beta we die like men, slow in terms of their relationship, so it's going to be kind of, there will be a lot of violence, violent Negan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-02-01 12:43:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12705222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leef/pseuds/Leef
Summary: After gunning down two of Negan's men, Carl finds himself not punished but pressed against a wall - not willing to stop the man. But there is a punishment awaiting him. Though maybe a different one than he expects.(Lol. I'm not good with summaries.)





	1. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since NovaFicachi (how do I actually link people on here??) has demanded more of the stuff I wrote in my very smutty (originally) one-shot, I thought about the whole thing and got so many ideas that I started this. It's going to be quite slow build in the beginning with not too much smut - my apologise - but there will be quite a few interesting smutty things later on.

The way back to Alexandria was filled with mocking, filled with teasing, with comments from the man and Carl hated every second of it. He hated the possibility Negan’s men could get an idea of what they had done, and more than once he found it hard to understand that they didn’t. Maybe they did, maybe they were just too afraid to let Negan notice they did. But whatever it was, it drove him crazy.

Sure, Negan never said enough for them to _really_ get it, but it was enough to make Carl boil with anger and embarrassment. He still felt something inside of him - due to the lack of opportunity to clean himself up - and he was disgusted by how little it bothered him, how little it bothered him to feel a sting every time he shifted in his seat. It was a constant reminder but every time he thought back to it, he had to force his thoughts elsewhere to avoid the tingle in his guts and the burning guilt he felt. He simply couldn’t comprehend how these two feeling could coexist within his mind. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t wrap his head around what it was that this man did to him on an emotional level.

“Kid.”

The man leaned over to him, his bat resting between his legs. Carl looked at him and his stomach turned at the sight of his big, happy smile. He knew it wasn’t a good sign whenever the man smiled like that. He almost preferred him angry. Everyone knew he was impulsive, so an angry Negan often meant an abrupt end to the one he’s angry with. That way, Carl wouldn’t need to spend more time in self-hatred.

“You know what will happen once we are there?”

Carl gave him an annoyed look, slowly finding his sass again. He wasn’t afraid of him. Not really. Not like he should, not like Negan’s own men were. He had felt no fear when he had decided to go to the man to execute the him. He had felt no fear when he had been pinned between the man and the wall. He had known to every time that the man was much stronger in matters of physical power and that it would be easy for him to snap his neck – only to name one example. But none of that had scared him, none of that was scaring him in that moment. The only thing he feared was what Negan might do to his family. Carl knew that he didn’t care about himself the way he should, but his family was a whole different story.

“I am sure you will enlighten me in a second.”

“Right you are! Since you gunned two of _my_ people down, I will gun two of _your_ people down. Doesn’t that sound fair to you?”

Carl felt cold sweat breaking out on his face, under his shirt, felt his face turning pale. His brain tried to process what he had been told there but it seemed to fail at the task. He couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t. What Carl did was his own idea, his fault, not the fault of anyone else. He swallowed hard, his mouth and throat suddenly dry and only the taste of bile kept him focused on what was happening.

“You can’t. That was _my_ idea. Mine alone.”

“Well, this is something you should have thought about before going on a killin’ spleen, little badass. These are the _rules_. An eye for an eye.”

He chuckled at his own joke and Carl let his hair cover his socket a little more. He missed his bandage because he felt so naked and vulnerable without it.

“You… I thought we were even.”

This was a stupid try, he knew it by the second those words left his mouth, but he knew he had to try, had to do something to keep the people back in Alexandria safe.

“ _Even_?”

Another predatory smirk he received, and it made him shiver even more.

“Hell, kid, I have the feeling you owe me even more than two of your people for that. Gotta feeling I did you a favor back at the Sanctuary. Or am I wrong? I rarely am, y’know?”

Carl opened his mouth to respond something, anything, but the words just wouldn’t come. A low laugh told him he couldn’t do a single fucking thing to change the man’s mind. There was no chance he could say or do anything to bring him off his plan, and the weight of this fact crushed him, was added to the weight he was already bearing on his shoulders.

They didn’t talk for the rest of the way. The driver didn’t say a single word wither, and Carl didn’t react to the comments Negan made every now and again. He simply stared out of the window, watching the occasional walker passing by, wishing – in some dark corner of his mind – to just join him. Everything would be easier than what was there to come but he knew that that wouldn’t be him. He fucked up, he probably wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for what he was about to cause, but he would go on. He always had, and it was the only right thing to do. What was done, was done anyway, even though that thought caused a stinging pain in his chest.

He didn’t leave the car when they approached the front gate, wasn’t allowed to. One of Negan’s men went to command whoever that was on watch to open the damn gate. And it was opened only moments later. They drove inside and finally Carl was allowed to leave the car but ordered to stay close and to not try something.

“Hold her for me, kiddo.”

Lucille was handed to him and his grip tightened around her the moment he felt the smooth wood under his fingers, the weight in his hand. It would be so easy to smack her sideways against his head. He only needed him to stumble and then he could take the real, the fatal blow. There would be a lot of blood - so much - but it would be worth it, and it would be the right thing to do. It would mean justice.

“That’s also a no-no,” the man whispered into his ear after leaning down enough to do so. “You try that and not two of your people, but _all_ of your people will pay for it. You understand me?”

Carl looked in his serious face and nodded, slowly, but his tension didn’t wear off. He wanted to smash his head in so badly, wanted to end this here and now, wanted to erase everything that was linked to what had happened. He wanted to erase everything that reminded him of what he had and hadn’t done, what he had wanted then. This man was the course for whatever it was that had lingered inside him for so long, chained in a secure corner of his mind, keeping silent most of the time, to come out. To demand things.

“So, let’s find your daddy. I have to have a serious talk with him about his little serial killer son.”

Carl was gestured to lead the way and he did, reluctantly. There were people standing on the streets, on their porches, watching them. They were probably wondering what this man wanted here again, and they were surely wondering why Carl had just left a car together with him. He felt as if they know everything, as if they could look right through them but he reminded himself that it couldn’t be. Whatever was going to happen next was even worse for them, and he knew they would hate him for it, for his selfish, stupid actions.

Negan trailed after him, only half a step behind, merrily whistling. Someone must have run to his dad, telling him who had arrived at their gates, because he saw Rick coming down the street, meeting them halfway. Carl saw his worried look resting on him and looked down to the grey concrete under his feet. He couldn’t look him in the eyes. He desperately wanted to, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He had betrayed his dad in more than one way. He had done stupid things in the past, too, but he was sure this time his dad wouldn’t stick around, this time would be different.

“Oh, hey Rick, what a surprise to meet you here. You were the one we wanted to visit, actually.”

Carl felt a heavy arm being wrapped around his shoulder and his body tensed once more. This was too close, which was funny since compared to the closeness they had shared not too long ago, this was barely anything. He shuddered at the thought of him choking on his cock, of him practically pleading Negan to burry himself inside him. Carl reminded himself to focus on this moment, the present, not on anything else.

“You see, I found your boy in one of my trucks. Maybe one of my men had packed him in there by accident but if you ask me, I don’t think so. He didn’t look lost at all. Actually, he greeted me with a fucking machine gun pointed at my damn face.”

Carl doesn’t look up, but he can hear by the way the man speaks, that he is grinning wide and he sees in the corner of his eyes that he was exuberantly gesticulating with his hands.

“Can you believe that? _A fuckin’ machine gun_! So, how about we have a serious talk about it in your house? I would _kill_ for some cold lemonade!”

The arm was tightening around Carl before he was forced to move. He finally dared to look up at his dad, who hadn’t moved yet. Their eyes met, and Carl thought he saw disappointment in his eyes. He had disappointed his father. There was something else, too – worry, probably. He knew this look.

“Now, you comin’ or what?”

Carl couldn’t ignore the troubled look on his dad’s face. In that moment he would have loved to explain everything, to tell him how sorry he was and that whatever was going to happen was his fault alone. That he would make it right somehow. That he would have loved to make it right this very moment. Again, he felt his hand clench around Lucille, looking at Negan who doesn’t seem to notice his stare. It would be so very easy.

“This way.”

Rick lead them to their house without saying anything on their way. Carl was only released from the tight grip upon entering the front door and instinctively looked around for his sister, which he couldn’t see around. He assumed his dad had put her somewhere save before meeting them on the street. Carl had never felt so relieved and even though he was far from being relaxed, it helped with the tension.

“What has he-“

“Nah-nah. You have such a pretty little house, here. Where are your fuckin’ manners? I am a guest after all. And don’t you offer your guests something to drink?”

Carl watched his dad’s jaw tense before he saw him nod slightly.

“Well how about some damn lemonade then?”

Rick turned to the kitchen to prepare what the man had asked him for, leaving both of them in the living room. Carl saw Negan move around, taking in the interior of the house before sitting down at the table, gesturing Carl to sit next to him. He did, reluctantly, paying attention not to sit too close to him. He was afraid of sending the wrong signals, though the rational part of his brain told him that it was stupid. No one would suspect anything from how close he was seated to Negan. Carl knew that Rick would be disappointed by his killing spleen, but he couldn’t imagine his reaction if Negan told him what they had done after that incident.

“I thought we were already past that after earlier today,” Negan commented. There was a hand brushing his knee. Then Carl saw Negan smirk again. He wanted to say something but was interrupted before he could get anything out. “Don’t worry, I told you I won’t tell if you won’t. I’m a man of my word.” The man put his index finger to his lips. There was this feeling again, the certainty that he was telling the truth. It didn’t make him relax but it kept him from trying to say anything more. After all, Rick didn’t seem to have noticed and he didn’t want to start making his dad suspicious.

The sound of a glass being put down on the table let Carl snap out of his thoughts and he, once again, looked at his dad who grabbed a seat across of them but not without looking uneasy at the sight of his son sitting close to this dangerous man.

“Dad I’m-“

“Uh-uh.” Negan rested a hand on his chest, pushing him back in his seat and effectively silenced him with it. “None of that. You let the adults talk. It’s like back at school when the parents are called in to talk about a student that fucked something up. Have you ever been called for it? I can imagine little Carl here being quite the good student, never getting into trouble, always on time...”

Carl felt uneasy hearing his. School was so far away, and he couldn’t even remember much of it. He had been a good student, back then. Sometimes he even wondered what middle school and high school would have been like. But every time he had thought about it he knew it was no use to imagine that. That world was long gone and wouldn’t come back. Not as long as he might live, at least.

“So, Rick, we have a problem here. You see, your son fucked something up.” Sweat began to trickle down Carl’s neck, his hand being sticky around Lucille. “Your son just killed two of my men. And you can imagine that I can’t let that go unpunished. I like you, Rick – I really do - but my men want some justice. And can you blame them?”

Carl saw his dad swallow, looking from Negan to him. He couldn’t stand this look and lowers his eyes once more in guilt. His dad didn’t look disappointed but like a cornered animal, afraid. Carl hated how he had changed after their encounter with the Saviors. He understood it, absolutely, but he preferred how his dad had used to be, he missed _the kind of person_ his dad had used to be. There was something that made him think his dad was weak for bowing to Negan. But there was also something telling him that it wasn’t on Rick, that he hadn’t had any other option. That he did it for him and for all the people in Alexandria.

“Now you haven’t got shit I can take from you to make up for it. So, tell me Rick, _how are you going to repay me_?”

Rick was fumbling for words, searching his brain for anything that would satisfy Negan.

“I… I will go out, scavenge even more. It could take some time, but we will find you whatever you need. I swear we-“

“Won’t work. You know, I already got _all the shit_ I want. And you are going out scavenging for me anyway. So that’s not enough. Even you must see this.”

The chair under the man squeaked as he leaned onto the table, taking a sip from the lemonade. “Ahhh, that’s some damn nice lemonade you got there!” he complimented, “And I have an idea – two, even! You can choose whatever idea appeals to you more, that’s how _generous_ I am. You can either hand me two of your people to be gunned down the same way Carl here did with mine,” Carl looked up again, looked at his dad with a pleading look, a look he hoped would show just how sorry he was for everything he had caused. His dad’s blue eyes stared back at him and Carl could see how he tried to calm his son – like he always did, always had done – how he tried to tell him everything would work out, would be okay. But they both know there was no way in hell that this could work out good or only slightly less bad. “Or the mad little killer here will go on vacation to stay at uncle Negan’s place until he learns how to behave.”

They both stare at the man in shock. Carl felt his heart skip a beat and he immediately knew what they would do, what they _had_ to do. There was no question in what to choose. He didn’t want to go, and he knew that it wouldn’t be a nice vacation. He even doubted it would be just for a certain amount of time. He knew the man wouldn’t just let him stay there either, wouldn’t just let him work for him since that wouldn’t be much of a punishment, Carl guessed. There was some hidden catch he wasn’t able to find yet. But everything was better than having two of their people being executed for something they had no part in.

“No, no… Please, there has to be another way. Please. We will scavenge more, as much as you need but please. Please don’t make me chose. Please. I can’t.”

“There’s no other way. If there are people you don’t like among your people just call their names and Arat will finish ‘em for you. It’s a nice service of us, kinda repay for your hard work. You can get rid of them without getting your hands dirty. Doesn’t that sound _damn nice_ , Rick? I wouldn’t even tell them it was you who picked.”

“No, please. Take me with you, please. Let my people and my son out of it. Please.”

A loud sound startled Carl and he couldn’t stop himself from flinching at the sound of a glass scattering into thousand tiny pieces. “ _Listen_ , Rick. There is no other way and there is no fucking way I will take you instead. If you don’t make a decision _right fucking now_ , I will kill two of your people _and_ take Carl. You better pick one. Now.”

Carl looked at his dad again. He was covered in sweat by now, slightly trembling, mouth open as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

“Please.”

“I’ll go.” Carl didn’t hear himself saying it but he knew he did say it. He felt all dizzy, but he knew it’s the only way to prevent innocent people from getting executed. He felt both men’s eyes on him but chose to look at his dad. “Dad, please. I’m sorry, it’s my fault. You can’t let other people pay for it. Please.”

“Isn’t this fuckin’ _touching_? Seems like the little killer has at least some morals! You haven’t fucked him up completely, Rick, congratulations. But it’s on you, that’s not his decision to make.” Carl felt a hand on his shoulder again but didn’t look away from his dad. He could see tears in his eyes, could see how hard he tried to find another possibility that they both knew didn’t exist.

“Dad.” Carl looked at him, pleading. He didn’t want this, but he knew it’s the only way. “I’ll be okay.” His dad didn’t believe him, so much was obvious from his look, and he couldn’t argue with that. He didn’t believe it himself. Not fully.

“How long?”

“Until he has learned his lesson. A month. Maybe a year. We’ll see.”

“I want to see him. Want to know he’s okay.”

“I am no monster, Rick. I will take good care of him.” The hand on his shoulder tightened again and pulled him closer to the man until his shoulder touched his chest. “As long as he won’t throw himself in front of one of those rotting things, I won’t let anything harm him. Not too bad at least. You gonna get him back in one piece. Most likely.”

Carl could smell the man and he wondered how bad ‘not too bad’ was. He knew he would make him pay in some way and he trusted him when he said he wouldn’t kill him. Killing him wouldn’t satisfy Negan, he guessed. The only was, the three of them knew that there were worse things than death. Carl shared another look with his dad and forced himself to nod at him slightly, to assured him it was okay to make this decision, to make him understand that it was the only way, the only possibility to solve this.

“I want to see him every time you come here. Every time you come to get your things.”

“You don’t make the rules here, Rick. I will let you know he’s okay every time I fucking want to. Find me nice shit, make me proud of you and I might be nice in return. That’s how this relationship works.”

Carl watched as his dad swallowed any comment he wanted to make, saw the tears still in his eyes. Was he disappointed that his son hadn’t gotten any tears in his own eyes? He knew he should be terrified, should be sad, should probably try to plead to stay here, to plead for any kind of replacement for him going, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Whatever Negan would throw at him, Carl was willing to manage it somehow. Negan didn’t lie when he had said he didn’t plan to kill him. And everything that wasn’t death, he could handle, must handle.

“Then it’s settled! Damn fine. It’s getting late, kid. Let’s get home so we won’t miss dinner. And don’t forget auntie Lucille.” Carl heard the chair next to him scratching over the floor but didn’t pull his eyes away from his dad’s. They stood up together, almost in synchrony and they hugged, tightly. So tightly Carl was afraid to be crushed but he didn’t care. Who knew when they could do it again, _if_ they could do it again.

He felt something wet trailing down his face and was confused for a moment. He wasn’t crying. But then he understood that those are not his tears. He started rubbing his dad’s back with the hand that wasn’t holding Lucille, told him it was going to be okay, that he could handle it, that he would be okay. That he would come back.

That he was sorry.

They were forced to part when Carl felt the collar of his shirt tighten around his neck. The man was pulling at his shirt from behind, strangling him with it.

“Don’t make uncle Negan cry at this heart-breaking sight. Pack some clothes and hurry. If you aren’t at the car in five minutes, someone will lose their head about it.”

Carl’s feet moved without him consciously making them. He stormed upstairs, grabbed a backpack and pushed clothes inside. He didn’t care what he packed since he hadn’t much stuff anyway. He found himself wishing to have another knife somewhere but every weapon he owned he had had with him when he went to the Saviors. For a moment he thought about whether he would ever see his knife again. He didn’t think he would, at least not anytime soon. Same as with Rick and Michonne and Judith and everyone else. He finally felt tears stinging in his eye but wiped them away immediately. He would handle it, he would make it through this. He was strong, he had survived so much already. He would get his chance to settle this and to come back.

Carl shouldered his backpack and ran down the stairs and outside the house. He saw his dad waiting outside the, his eyes still sad, watering, but he tried to keep his face straight. He felt the urge to ask him about Judith, but he stopped himself, knowing they had no time for that.

“Kid, we are waiting for you. Hurry up and get your ass here.” Negan was already standing next to the truck and Carl could see his gloved hand resting on the door.

His gaze shifted but he looked at his dad once more. “I’m sorry dad. Tell Judith and Michonne I love them.” He couldn’t bring himself to say any more. He turned and walked towards the waiting truck, towards Negan who wrapped his arm around his shoulder as soon as he was close enough. With the other hand he took Lucille back and waved the beaten man good-bye. Carl couldn’t bring himself to look back, couldn’t even bring himself to look at any of the people watching this happening. His hands formed fists and he felt his nails digging into his flesh as he let the pain distract him from being navigated to the car.

“Hop in, kid. Time to get home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations for making it this far without any smutty-smut. And since I was asked whether I have a tumblr or not, I decided to create one. 
> 
> https://buriedbrain.tumblr.com/
> 
> Feel free to drop me prompts and stuff. :'3


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is up earlier than planned. I will try to update next Sunday again and keep this up.

Carl didn’t remember much from the way back. He only remembered being angry, sad, devastated. He remembered that he had looked for a weapon, any weapon, to strike Negan down then and there. It would have been so easy. He was so close, sitting right next to him. But there hadn’t been any chance for a successful strike.

Under him he felt a soft mattress and he rolled onto his side. It was hard to wrap his head around whatever had happened, how he had ended up here. He was given a room, his own room, and Negan had only told him to stay there. Which wasn’t hard since the door had been locked behind him. Carl sighted and buried his head in the soft pillows. They smelled as those sheets in Negan’s room had, but without the smell of the man lingering underneath the detergent. It drove him crazy, the thought of that, that he was thinking about him instead of his family he won’t see again in some time. Maybe never again, who knew.

He gritted his teeth. His jaw was aching, as he felt some tears rolling down his face and then disappearing into the pillow. Somehow, he managed to drift into a shallow sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, he was woken by a loud bang at the door which forced him to jerk upright. He was disoriented at first, but the sight of plain grey concrete walls reminded him where he was. There was a sound of a door being unlocked as well, but it wasn’t opening so he stayed where he was.

“Get up, kid.”

That’s all he heard and all he needed to push the sheets back. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday, having seen no reason to change into his pajamas at all. He made sure his hair was covering his socket before heading for the door and trying to open it. It did in fact open, and he felt the urge to puke as soon as he saw Negan grinning at him this early in the morning. Puking right in the man’s face would have been such a satisfying thing to do, he caught himself thinking.

“Well that was fucking fast!”

He didn’t tell him to follow but since he began walking away, Carl assumed it’s what was expected of him. His eyes fixated on the bat that was resting on the man’s shoulder as he strolled down the floors like he owned this place. Carl’s empty stomach turned at the thought that he, in fact, did own all of this and it made him so much sicker than anything so far.

He barely noticed some shitty comments the man made on their way and refused to react to them in any way. He was tired, hungry and he had no interest in picking a fight just now with clear disadvantages. When he would make a move, he wanted it to be perfect, he wanted the possibility of the other’s death as close to a hundred percent as possible.

“Don’t disappoint me, kid.”

He shifted his gaze from the floor to the man, not knowing what that was supposed to mean. He had no idea what he had been talking about last. So he simply raised an eyebrow, being certain to have a puzzled look on his face.

“Oh, come one.”

The man opened his arms wide in the unique way he always gestured.

“I have high hopes in you, don’t fuck it up.”

Carl was still clueless what he meant but since he was continuing to move, he continued to follow. Soon they arrived in something that looked like a large hall. He smelled food and his stomach immediately reacted, telling him to grab some of that shit to fill it. Everyone around them started to kneel and Carl was as impressed by this as he had been the first time seeing it. It was insane just how much people respected the man – or rather feared him. Carl wasn’t sure there was much of a difference, really. But whatever it was, it didn’t fail its purpose.

“Well _this_ ,” he motioned to Carl and shoved him in front of him, “is Carl. He will be living and working here. I expect you to treat him the same way all of you were treated the day you came here. He does something stupid? Punish him accordingly. He does something good? He gets his piece of the cake.”

Everyone was staring at them - no - at Carl, and he fought the urge to hide somewhere. There were more people staring at him in this moment than he had seen over the last months all together. And he knew those weren’t even all the people living here, but only those close to Negan. He tried to stare back, didn’t want to seem weak, so he simply kept his eyes fixated on an imaginary point on the other end of the room, kept his head high.

“So, I know _some of you_ may be fucking mad at him for killing two of you but let me remind you that there are _rules_ to follow and everyone who breaks them, will be punished for it like standard protocol.”

Carl slightly flinched as Lucille appeared beside his face. But she was not there to threaten him but to point at those people staring at them. Like a thread – no - more like a promise. There was an eerie silence and Carl could only think that Negan was eyeing people in those moments before he dismissed them. People got up again, getting back to their breakfast.

Carl wondered what kind of rules they had since those people didn’t really seem to follow any rules. Every face he looked in seemed rogue and dangerous and he caouldn’t imagine anyone being willed to stick to anything someone told them. Then again, he knew Negan was a mad man and nothing kept people as effectively in line as a mad man to fear. And he had no doubt people did fear Negan. Or Lucille, though there probably was no difference at that.

He got a tray pressed into his hands and assumed he should fill it the same way the man before him did. His stomach rumbled again, and he started to put things on it, not much but enough that it would keep him from getting hungry too soon. He had learned to do okay with little food, and even though the sight of those immense variety got his mouth watering, he kept his tray barely filled.

“There is bacon, kid. _Bacon_. You know what that is, right?”

Without waiting for an answer Negan put a lot of it on his tray and Carl just stared. He couldn’t remember the last time he had something smelling this good, but he immediately felt guilty since he knew this was from other people, taken without any right to.

“Is any of this not stolen from other people?”

Carl didn’t want to sound as aggressive as he did, but he was also far from regretting it. He glared at the man and saw how his grin got smaller by the second, making room for an annoyed look. Carl thought he would get beaten and braced himself for it. He could take it. He would take it. He wouldn’t apologize and he wouldn’t flinch. This was a legitimate question and he had no fear to tell him how much he loathed his doing.

“What are you fucking getting at, you ungrateful piece of shit? Say ‘thank you’ and eat or get a beating. It’s on you.”

Carl simply kept his eyes fixated on the man, even as he turned away to sit on a table in the far corner. He didn’t fail to notice that it was the only place from which one could see everything going on in the large hall. His hands clenched around the tray and as he looked down he saw his knuckles sticking out all white. He should speak up again, should maybe even get into a fight with the man. He wanted to beat him up so badly, but he was feeling sick because of the lack of food in his stomach. So he bit down his anger and looked for a place to sit. All tables were already occupied, and no one looked even slightly nice or welcoming.

Who could blame them. The only thing for him to do was walking to the far corner Negan was sitting at. There were less people seated at a huge table, and he took the end of it. A man and a woman were sitting at the other end and made disgusted sounds which Carl ignored. He was hungry, he didn’t feel like being in immediate danger, and he planned to eat his fucking breakfast no matter how resentful people looked at him.

He glared at the two before concentrating on his food. He didn’t care what they thought, didn’t care what _Negan_ thought. He felt somewhat numb under all the anger and frustration and it made him resistant to all those glares, those whispered things about him, about his missing eye, about what he had done.

He really didn’t get what the man wants to achieve with all this. He had assumed to get punished for his doing, to get thrown into some dark place. Instead he was having the best breakfast in a very long time while his dad and the others were probably eating leftovers or nothing at all. He knew they had almost nothing left, that the Saviors had taken almost all of it.

He watched the people, watched where they put their trays after they finished, to do the same once everything was securely in his stomach. Negan was still seated in his corner with a blond man talking to him. He knew it was at least in some parts about him because he didn’t fail to notice Negan looking at him, motioning with his head towards him which caused the blonde to look, too. Carl didn’t look away, just stared and wished stares could kill as effectively as a handgun. After a while, the blonde came over to him. He remembered him – or rather his face. He was the guy that had tackled him down, but he couldn't remember his name anymore.

“Come on.”

That’s all he said before leaving in a fast walk. Apparently, everyone did this here.

Carl sighted and put is tray away on the way. They left the hall behind just to walk through endless corridors until they reached a door with two guards positioned in front of it. Carl saw the blonde nod at them and they let them in. Carl’s jaw almost dropped when he saw what was in front of him. It was nothing less than an enormous room filled with weapons. His brain wasn’t able to process how much of everything there was, but it must the more than he and his people ever had since all that had started.

There were knifes, pistols, rifles, even grenades, crossbows, bows and so much more. He swallowed at this sight and watched the blonde moving to a desk with hunting knifes and machetes. Carl felt sick at the thought they had ever thought they could beat the Saviors. But the worst thing to know was, that it was unlikely these were all their weapons. Negan surely wasn’t stupid enough to store all of them in one place. Carl got the feeling this was only the smallest part of what they owned.

“That’s for you.”

The blonde handed Carl a large knife and moved on to fish a sheath for it out of a shelf.

“Better not mess with it. You’re not gonna get a firearm soon. Or a replacement if you lose it or do something dumb with it.”

Carl tightened his grip around the knife. It had a good size, similar to the one he had had before they stripped him off of it. Why were they even handing him anything that could be used as a weapon against them anyway? What were Negan’s motives to pull such a stupid move? Did he even have a plan or something? Carl would be surprised if he hadn’t, actually. Sure, he was an impulsive asshole, but he wouldn’t have been able to build all this without acting on some kind of plan.

“How about a ‘thank you’? You’re working for us now so act like it.”

“What exactly am I supposed to do?”

He finally spoke, and his own voice sounded strained. He fixed his eyes on the burned face of the man which he seemed to notice but didn’t comment on how Carl’s eye moved over the large scar. They were both freaks in this aspect, both with a ruined face.

“You’re going out with us today. Don’t fuck it up.”

Carl was confused by this man. He didn’t seem to like the idea of Carl joining them, but he didn’t look as hateful as the others had. Carl only nodded in response and finished putting the sheath on to put the knife in.

They left the room again and the blonde started filling him in about what they were going to do. As it turned out they would go collect from a small community about a two-hour drive away. Another thing that baffled Carl – why on earth would they let him know where another community was?

He rode in a car with Dwight, as he had introduced himself later on. He seemed nice, actually, which confused Carl even more. He talked about a lot of things with him, about where he was from, about what kind of music he liked, and Carl almost felt okay with this whole thing. He didn’t get why Dwight was acting this nice but he just enjoyed it as long as it would last. It was a nice change compared to dealing with Negan’s aggressive behavior. He still knew he should hate all Saviors but this guy seems relatively normal as long as he wasn’t walking through the corridors of the Sanctuary.

Picking up the things from that community went quick. They behaved, handed them boxes with fresh vegetables, fruit and some fish which they seemed to get from a nearby lake. Dwight did most of the talking and he was almost as much of an asshole doing it, as Negan would have been. Carl wondered if this was an act or if the man had acted on the ride here. None of the possibilities was one he liked, so he just stayed quiet and helped the other men accompanying them to load the boxes into another car. He was grateful for neither of them talking to him or paying any attention to him at all. Carl guessed as long as he was helping and not planning any stupid moves they would mind their own business.

As soon as all boxes were secured, Dwight mocked the people one last time before getting back in the car, gesturing Carl to join him the same way as on the way here. They left the community and started making their way back so they’d arrive some time before dusk. Dwight didn’t say it but Carl knew that no one would like to stay outside in the dark. Him included. He wasn’t afraid, but he was too used to stay in a secure house and he supposed most of the Saviors were too.

“Are you always such dicks around people providing for you?”

Carl heard himself sounding more pissed than he intended to. He really should work on picking his tone more carefully. He wanted to at least try to not piss them off too much.

“It’s more efficient doing it that way.”

Carl was stunned by this blunt answer and he just stared at the man as he drove down the road.

“What?”

Dwight looked at him and seemed to not get why Carl was staring like an idiot.

“Do you really think we would get as much stuff if we were nice?”

Carl noticed the amusement in his voice and it made him sick. Did this guy even get that they were stripping people off everything they had? Okay, maybe not everything but a lot if it was similar to what they had done to Alexandria.

“Why don’t you fucking scavenge and grow stuff yourself? You have more than enough people to do it. And the space, too.”

“Why should we? It’s a nice deal this way. We get stuff, they are somewhat safe.”

“How the fuck are they safe? You _kill_ people. You take everything they worked hard for!”

Carl didn’t want to scream but in fact he did. He was just so incredibly angry. How could he not get what they did to those people, to the people in Alexandria. They threatened them, they executed people, they took without giving anything back.

“Wow, I think you need to calm down, kid.”

“What?” he snapped, not believing his own ears. He needed to calm down? Carl simply couldn’t comprehend this whole conversation. How dare he said this after everything they had done.

“With you people it was a bad start, I get that. But you were the ones wiping a whole outpost of ours. It was you who started this and it was you who paid for it.”

“That was-“

“No, that wasn’t something different or whatever shit you want to tell me now. You started this and you paid for it. These people here were more cooperative. They are always on time, always producing good stuff. So they get to keep some of it and they are safe in return.”

Carl still couldn’t wrap his head around what he meant by safe. Safe from what? Everyone who had survived until now probably didn’t need to fear walkers. Hordes would be something different but what could the Saviors possibly do about them? But then his mind reminded him of the painful things at the prison and what had happened to them there. Was he talking about stuff like that? About keeping them safe from other people?

“That’s how it works in this world. They get to pay for belonging to Negan. And I believe you have seen how he feels about what belongs to him. He doesn’t share, he doesn’t negotiate. What is his, stays his and dare the one touching it.”

Carl didn’t know what to say. It did, in fact, make sense but that was exactly what he didn’t like about it. It was still an awful system. If they cooperated with other communities, it would make so much more sense but then again, it wouldn’t. Not for the Saviors and Carl finally got what they were doing and why. From the point of view of any Savior it was the best possible deal. They had total control, they got stuff and they were large enough to scare other groups off.

Still. Carl wasn’t on the Saviors side but on the side of the communities. And for the communities it was a rather shitty deal.

But Carl didn’t say anymore to this. He knew he would lose this argument and he didn’t feel like it right now. He noticed Dwight looking at him a few more times and he thought he would say something, but he didn’t. Instead they drove the rest of the way in silence.

Once at the Sanctuary he helped unloading the truck, carrying boxes inside. Again no one bothered to talk to him, but Carl didn’t really care. He preferred it this way, actually. It almost felt good to have something to do without someone talking to him. He could almost forget where he was. That was until he almost bumped into someone. He didn’t look up, just apologized to carry on with his task. But he felt an arm wrapping around his upper arm and he flinched, looking up.

“As much as I respect your eager attitude to help out, you can’t forget your manners.”

Carl looked at the man in confusion and hated the wide grin displaying on his face. His eyes moved to the baseball bat in his hand and he decided to keep staring him in the eyes instead of thinking about the barbed wire bat.

“What do you want?”

Carl asked, and he was surprised by his own hateful voice. Not being around Negan for a few hours had helped forgetting that he should, in fact, be scared of him, helped to get is sass back. Before he could say anything else, he felt a sudden pain in his stomach, pulsing through his whole body. The blow forced him to drop the box he was carrying, and cucumbers and other vegetables hit the floor. He couldn’t fully comprehend what had just happened, but he tasted bile on his tongue and he had to force himself to continue breathing. He had dropped to his knees while holding his middle, slowly grasping that he had been hit in to stomach with full force.

“First of all, that is no way to talk to me. Second, you fucking kneel like everyone does when you see me.”

Carl heard his voice as even and smooth as possible and wondered how he could punch him like that without the slightest change in his voice or posture. He raised his gaze from the grey concrete floor, feeling tears in the corner of his eye because of the forceful blow. But all he saw was Lucille pointing at his face, only a few inches away.

“Now apologize, kid.”

Carl swallowed hard. He knew he should comply, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to give this man the satisfaction of having broken him. He didn’t want to be part of this whole thing, of this group, and he didn’t want to kneel or apologize either – though the kneeling thing he was already doing without wanting to. He wanted to raise to his feet again, but he didn’t think his legs would hold him right now. So he stayed like this.

He gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw, not saying anything.

The next thing he felt was a sharp pain in his left shoulder and he fell to the ground, crushing a cucumber under him. When he looked up he saw Negan staring down at him with a frown that lacked any grin he had shown before. Carl immediately knew he was beyond angry with his behavior, and this makde him anxious in a way he had seldom felt. But at least he knew what the man was up to in an angry state. He preferred this over the situations in which he was unpredictable. At least he knew there was a punishment awaiting him, a beating, anything. His look was fixed on Lucille which Negan held in a tight grip, seemingly ready for striking another blow.

They stared at each other and Carl felt that Negan was waiting for the apology. He didn’t know how long they stared at each other – it couldn’t be that long – when he saw Dwight behind Negan. He almost looked at him in a pleading way as if he wanted him to apologize to get other with it, but Carl couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t that weak, and he wanted Negan to know that. No matter what had happened between them, he wanted to make up for the weakness he had shown the man only a day and a half ago.

Then there was another blow. Carl hit the ground again and he wondered why he had even bothered to sit up again in the first place. Negan was towering over him and he had no doubt he would hit him again if he didn’t say anything now; he had no doubt the man was insane enough to even beat him to death if he felt like he had to to prove a point. People like him always have an excuse, right? An excuse that they had to do awful things, that there was no other possibility.

“Last chance, kid. I really don’t want to ruin the face of yours next.”

Carl laughed at that without thinking about it. The thought of him ruining his face was insane.

“If you haven’t noticed, it’s already fucked,” he basically spat.

He knew he shouldn’t have said that, that he should instead grab for his knife to take his chances, but he didn’t. He just continued staring.

Negan didn’t say anything at that, just glared at him before his smile returned and it let Carl’s stomach drop in a very uneasy way. This wasn’t good. He wanted the angry Negan back. This way he would know that he’d just continue beating him senseless, but this was different. This way any wicked shit could happen.

He watched as the man took another step forward and he wondered why he didn’t just keep beating him. The man squatted beside him and lowered his head to study his face. At one point he grabbed his chin hard.

“You really take no shit.”

Carl couldn’t stop thinking he heard a hint of respect or even adoration in his voice.

“Now, I really respect a badass like you but, you see, there are _rules_. And even you little psychopath have to follow those rules. Now, I am a generous man, so I won’t lose my respect for you if you just do it. Let’s get over with it, shall we?” Negan straightened his back. “But I will beat the shit out of you if you don’t, just know that.”

Carl gritted his teeth so much that he was afraid they would break. He sat up again, his side hurting so much upon every move, but he managed to get on one knee without letting out a sound that would reveal any of his discomfort. He didn’t look at Negan while doing this but stared right behind him where Dwight had his eyes still fixated on Carl. He saw him nod slightly and Carl had to force his mouth to say those two words.

“I’m sorry.”

It didn’t really sound convincing, but it was all Negan would get. And to Carl’s surprise he accepted.

“Now that wasn’t so fucking hard, was it?”

The man let Lucille rest against his shoulder again and Carl watched as he turned and sauntered away, whistling. As if nothing had happened.

Only now he noticed all the eyes on him. Seemingly everyone around him had stopped what they had been doing to watch this shit going on, and he tried to ignore them, to block them out of his mind. He collected all the dropped vegetables and put them back into the box. There were a lot of them that were damaged, but he hoped people would still eat them. In Alexandria they would but here he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore, actually. He only felt confusion.

Carl saw Dwight kneeling next to him, helping to pick everything up again.

“You should stop this shit.”

“Why do you care? Just leave me alone,” Carl snapped at him in a low voice. He still felt sick from the punch to his guts and his arm hurt with every move. He was sure there was a huge bruise forming under the layers of his clothes and he thought he was bleeding where the barbed wire had penetrated his clothes and skin.

“I’ll take you to see the doc.”

He stared at the blonde and wasn’t able to read his expression at all. Just why did he care? But Carl didn’t ask, in fact he didn’t say anything else, not wanting to talk any more. He just got up after picking everything up to bring it inside. Dwight seemed to have followed him because he was waiting at the door as Carl turned around.

“The doc’s this way,” he said, and Carl followed him without exchanging another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. It's a slow fic, I know. Hope you enjoyed Carl being beaten up anyway, even though it wasn't too bad (yet). See you around next week (:
> 
> Just a reminder that you can drop me prompts and stuff at buriedbrain.tumblr.com


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am not as late as I thought I'd be. Not as hung-over as assumed either, so here is the next chapter. Maybe somewhere it's still Sunday and I haven't fucked up my deadline.

The doc checked Carl without him wanting to, but he guessed he had no other option with Dwight standing close to the door, seemingly not letting him go before the man did his thing. No, actually he was _sure_ that the blonde wouldn’t let him pass. Carl payed more attention to the blonde than he did to the words of the physician, though said blonde preferred to look everywhere but him. Carl really didn’t get why he acted the way he did.

Carl already knew that his arm was badly bruised and that he shouldn’t use it much the upcoming days, so there really was no need to listen to the medic. He had also already suspected - due to the pain he felt with every move - that one of his ribs was bruised. Normally he would be enough of a decent human being to thank the man, but he didn’t feel like thanking any of those people here anymore. Plus, why should he thank him for telling him things he already knew.

When his scratches were disinfected, Carl put his clothes back on and hopped off the chair, being careful not to move in any way that would provoke his rib unnecessarily.

He glared at Dwight upon pushing the door open just to find him following him again. Carl never had a dog, but he suspected that it would feel exactly like this.

“What the fuck.” 

Carl didn’t know why he was so upset with the blonde, in fact he was the only person that had been somewhat friendly towards him so far. He faced him after they put a few steps between themselves and the doc’s room.

“What is it? Can’t I go back alone?”

His tone clearly showed his annoyance, his nerves on edge. He felt like punching a wall or screaming until this feeling would leave him, but he knew both wouldn’t do him much good.

“As if you’d find your way on your own.”

Carl felt any words that he’d love to throw at him die in his throat and a slight embarrassment showing. He was, in fact, right. Carl had no idea where he was, and he had no idea how to get back to the room he had slept in. Or the hall where they had eaten breakfast this morning. This thought made him notice just how hungry he actually was. He hadn’t really done much today but it was a long day nevertheless.

Carl sighted and tried to swallow his anger for a second. Dwight really had nothing to do with the shit that happened with Negan. In fact, Carl had been the one provoking the man and Dwight had even tried to help him in some way. He had never asked for Dwight’s help or opinion, though he appreciated the gesture if he was honest with himself.

“Fine,” He said in a much less annoyed tone and started following him down corridors that all looked the same.

They seldom met other people and Carl was actually glad about it. The last thing he needed were more people staring at him as if he was some kind of weird animal. Or freak. Most people most likely thinking the latter.

“Next time you should kneel,” Dwight suddenly said without much context. Not that Carl needed any.

He eyed the man sideways. He hadn’t thought about what he would do the next time. But he didn’t want to give in this quickly. He didn’t belong here, and he certainly didn’t want to give Negan any reason to think he had the upper hand. At least not when it came to Carl’s dignity when Negan already had the upper hand over everything else.

“I’m not like you.”

“Maybe. But maybe you are. That’s why I tell you.”

Carl stopped and to his surprise the man stopped, too, looking at him.

“What do you mean?”

Dwight just shrugged but his look told Carl there was more behind his words than he could grasp right now. But then the realisation hit him sooner than he thought while staring in the other’s face. How had he possibly missed this, he literally had been staring at it all the time.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do what I was supposed to. Broke rules.”

The memories of the man getting his face ironed hit him and Carl thought he could _smell_ burned flesh at the thought of it. The same thing must have happened to Dwight, too. Carl can’t stop himself from thinking that this might be the reason he was somewhat sympathetic towards Carl, even though that would be a stupid reason and he couldn’t imagine the blonde being emotionally attached to someone like him. For whatever reason. Not after only a day. Was he worried that he would share this experience with him? Or was he proud that Carl hadn’t stopped opposing Negan yet?

“Why didn’t you run away?”

Dwight seemed to be uncomfortable talking about this and looked around as if to check whether there were people around, possibly overhearing their conversation.

“Because there is no place to run to. You know that, too. Or will soon.”

Carl watched Dwight starting to motion again and followed him. He didn’t like the thought that he could be right, but something in his guts told him he _was_ right with that. There was no place the Saviors couldn’t reach and even if there was, they all knew there probably was some group similar to that, ruling like they did. Maybe this new world order was real and didn’t allow anything else than that. Not for an indefinite time at least. His group had only been lucky it took them so long to encounter the Saviors.

“Let’s grab dinner.”

Carl didn’t have much of an appetite anymore after this small conversation, but the day had gone by fast with all the driving and he needed something to eat to last here. It would be better to eat before ending this day, he knew that. He would be allowed to end it, right? To lick his wounds.

Dwight stopped in front of the hall they had eaten breakfast in earlier today.

“Just remember kneeling. He will fuck you up otherwise.”

Carl couldn’t ignore his voice, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Even Daryl does.”

The mention of Daryl startled him. He hadn’t seen him since driving back to Alexandria. He remembered Negan saying he needed to get back in his box and Carl had no time to think about what that meant or where they took him. He wanted to see him, but he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to. Still, the thought of having at least one of his friends here made the whole thing bearable.

He hoped so badly that he was alright. As alright as prisoners could be here.

When they reached the dining hall there weren’t as many people. Carl suspected that it was still early, but Dwight told him there already was food, so Carl followed him. There really was food but it was nothing compared to the rich breakfast. He didn’t really know _what_ it was he had on his tray, but he hoped it was edible. He thought he could identify beans and some kind of meat but wasn’t too sure and decided to not think about it.

To his surprise Dwight didn’t leave him eating alone. Instead they sat down at the same table. Carl was still cautious around him but so far, he hadn’t done anything to him, right? It was more the opposite and Carl just hoped that it would stay this way. Maybe, if he got this man to trust him, maybe then he could get his hands on a gun soon to finally end this nightmare. A little bit of acting couldn’t be that hard, could it?

After no more than five minutes into eating – Carl was surprised that the food actually tasted good, no matter what it looked like – there were two more people joining their table und he gazed at them through his hair covering his face. Two women. He remembered the one on the left been called Arat. The other with a black tattoo on her neck seemed familiar, too, but he didn’t know her name. And he didn’t care to ask. He just wanted to finish his food – hopefully before Negan came here – and to leave for his room. Though he didn’t know yet if he was allowed to do that or if people expected him to do other duties.

The women didn’t say anything to him, didn’t even seem to acknowledge him the slightest bit, and Carl couldn’t be happier about that. At least the ignoring would be mutual then. They started to chat with Dwight though, and he was perfectly fine with listening to them instead of being forced to talk himself. His ribs killed him every time he shifted in his seat, and he wouldn’t be a good conversation partner anyway.

Carl was eating his last bit of dinner when he noticed the whole room shifting from their places to the floor, kneeling.

He looked over his shoulder and saw Negan standing in the door with his arms open wide as if he was embracing the whole scene, which he probably really did with every single person kneeling for him and only him. Only Carl glared at him instead of getting on his knees. Their eyes locked, but the grin on the man’s lips didn’t change the slightest bit. If it did anything at all, then it was only getting wider. Negan started to play with Lucille, swinging her through the air in a playful manner.

“Just kneel,” he heard Dwight say, his voice low and somewhat pleading.

Carl looked at Dwight and stood up to turn his back to him, to face Negan instead. No one was saying a word, the room was silent, and Carl thought – no, knew – that one would be able hear a needle falling to the ground. He felt all eyes on either him or their leader, and he wondered just how many people would like to see him cooperate and how many would prefer him getting beaten up again.

“Well, well.”

Negan began walking towards him with his cocky attitude and the smug way he always rolled his hips when trying to provoke, making a huge show out of it. Carl didn’t look away, didn’t move an inch as the man came closer. He couldn’t take his eyes off him; not from his movements, not from his perfect teeth, and not from his hazel eyes.

“If you love being beaten up by Lucille,” he swung her through the air once more, “just say so, kid.” Negan leaned down to his ear and added, “Or do you get off being beaten up? We can do that in private, y’know?” Negan chuckled at his own words.

Carl clenched his hands, his jaw, and his whole body felt too tense, too angry. And then it just happened. He snapped at another sexually implicit comment and brought his fist down on the man’s face. He had aimed for his nose, but Carl hadn’t thought Negan’s reflexes were this good. In the last second, he managed to save himself from a broken nose. Instead of meeting the middle of his face, Carl’s hand collided with his jaw.

Negan took the hit and just looked at him, working his jaw as if to see if something was broken, all calm, dangerously so. There was blood on his lip and Carl watched as he reached for his face with his free hand, wiping at the blood, looking at his fingers coming away red. Everything seemed slower than before, he felt his breathing accelerate, and he knew he had fucked up. He should have used his knife. Why hadn’t he thought about that? He reached for it, out of reflex, even though he already knew it was too late for that.

Before he could think more about what he had or hadn’t done, he felt his body shifting, his feet losing their connection to the floor and his body being pressed towards the ground, hitting it hard. The impact knocked the wind out of him and he flinched as his bruised ribs made a terrible sound upon meeting the concrete. He couldn’t stop himself from crying out and knew immediately that at least one rib just broke under the force. The sudden pain let tears well up in his eye, and he blinked in confusion and agony.

All he could see were those hazel eyes staring at him. Negan didn’t seem to enjoy this nearly as much as he had thought he would – there was no smug grin, no laughing - and it confused the hell out of him. Why didn’t he just end it already. It was not as if Carl liked hurting much, but he couldn’t just act as if he belonged to this man, as if this man hadn’t killed Glenn, and Abraham, as if this man hadn’t taken everything from his family. He had already lost some part of his dignity as he hadn’t stopped him, he couldn’t give him any more than that.

Negan’s hand tightened around his neck, and Carl continued to stare, gripping the large hand that was preventing him from taking a breath reflexively. He dug his fingers into the man’s forearm and tried to get it lose, just enough to inhale, to fill his lungs with oxygen once more. He started to panic when the hand didn’t move a bit and the man just kept staring into his eyes, kept the pressure even, with the slightest grin on his lips.

Until that moment Carl had been so sure that Negan wouldn’t kill him, wouldn’t want to do it. He didn’t know why he had this thought, but he had been so damn sure. He hadn’t been afraid of the man. Not really. But the longer he prevented Carl from filling his lungs, the more this thought crumbled, and Carl got more and more frantic, kicking out, struggling, but without any success, feeling his kicking legs being pinned with the man’s body weight.

Negan was pressing him down with all his weight and there was nothing Carl could do to get free. He knew this would be it if he wouldn’t take a breath now and it terrified him so much. He had fucked up and there was nothing he could do to change the man’s mind, though he tried to tell him with his tear-filled eye that he was sorry, that it was a mistake, that he knew it and that it wouldn’t happen again if he would give him just one more chance.

He didn’t want to die like this. He didn’t want to die at all. He wanted to see his dad again. Judith. Michonne. All the others back in Alexandria. He wanted to see them so badly.

The hand loosened enough for Carl to take a desperate swig of air. By far not enough, but enough to keep him from passing out. But it made the panic only grow, like being killed slowly, so slowly.

“You really challenge me here, Carl,” he heard Negan whisper into his ear.

He was leaning down, still holding his body in place with his own, as if this was an ordinary task for him.

“I gave you a room, a bed, a damn knife, gave you work so you wouldn’t die from boredom.”

Negan loosened his grip again to allow another hopeless drag of air before tightening his hand once more to continue his speech.

“I fed you with the good stuff all my men get, and you refuse to follow the simplest rule here.”

Carl tried to form words with his lips and felt tears sliding down the side of his face. He can’t get a single word out until Negan would loosen his grip enough again. He desperately shook his head, tried to let him know he was sorry in any possible way.

“What did you say? And I warn you, think before you speak.” Negan’s voice was even, and calm, and it made Carl shiver in fear.

“…sorry, I’m sorry--” Carl answered hoarsely, repeating the words a few times until the hand finally removed itself from his neck fully. Even then he said them again and again as tears continued to find their way down his face before disappearing into his thick hair. The hand came closer again and he flinched, bracing himself for another choking session but he felt the hand patting his head, almost tenderly stroking through his hair and then over his tear-stained cheek, while he continued to mumble those words over and over again, too afraid what would happen if he stopped.

“That’s more like it. Now get up.”

Negan got up himself and released Carl’s now limp body.

“The next time, _you_ will be the _first_ to kneel and the last to stand up. Got that?”

Carl just nodded, trying to catch his breath, trying to get it more even again. He heard the man walking away from him, heard his heavy boots meeting the concrete, heard him dismissing everyone else, and walking away further. Carl just covered his eye with his arm and hoped that the pressure he was still feeling would vanish soon. He didn’t care that he was still laying on the cold concrete of the dining hall with everyone around him. He never had felt as frightened as he had in that moment. Only a few things had been worse than this and he had seen and experienced so much already. But this had been a whole new level of desperation he had felt. It was one thing to face walkers and to think that would be it - more or less quick, always having a bullet for oneself just in case to make it even quicker - or being slowly choked to death. He had no doubt that the next time Carl gave him a reason to, Negan would push it that far.

He had no idea how long he was lying there until he was collected enough to get up and to face the people around him. The tears had dried, but his throat was still hurting, and his rib punished him for any move. He never thought sitting up could be that painful and cold sweat was forming on his forehead when he sat there, panting slightly.

His gaze shifted to the place he had been sitting at minutes ago and he met Arat’s and the other woman’s eyes. They somehow looked almost sorry, but they said not a single word to him. It was Dwight – again - that pushed his tray away and came to him, helping him up. Carl didn’t even protest, no matter how much he would have liked to. But instead he took all the help he could get. He had no energy left for this stuff. He only wanted to go to bed and to not see anyone anymore.

But Dwight didn’t bring him back to his room, but to the doctor’s once more. The medic seemed surprised to see him for the second time this day, only roughly an hour apart. He didn’t say anything but started to check him in an experienced manner, not commenting much, only asking an occasional question as to what had happened. But nothing more than a ‘does this hurt’ or a ‘can you feel this’, really. Carl answered only with one-word answers, feeling every word hurting this throat and his ribs.

The doctor listened to his lungs and after a few moments of observing him breathe, he let him know that at least one rib seemed to be broken and Carl couldn’t keep his sarcasm to himself.

“Oh, really? Wouldn’t have guessed with all the pain and the cracking sound earlier,” he spat through gritted teeth and only got an annoyed look from the medic in response. He got painkillers – though Carl didn’t fail to notice the look the doctor gave Dwight; probably only handing him medication because the blonde scared the shit out of him - and is told to not work too hard the next weeks and to cool the area to prevent it from further swelling. Carl also received some kind of lotion to apply on his throat so that the bruises won’t get too bad and is recommended to drink tea or something like that. The doc told him to pay him a visit in a week or, if it would get worse, earlier but Carl noticed his tone and that he would actually prefer him to stay away.

Carl only stared at him but got a forced ‘thank you’ out, before he covered himself up again to finally leave for his room. He was so done with this day and he only wanted to hide in his bed, to sleep and to stay there for the rest of his life. He was done with Negan, with the whole being here. He felt like an animal with no way out, slowly panicking. He even thought about sneaking out – somehow – and to walk back to Alexandria, maybe steal a car. But he dismissed that thought as quickly as it came. It was a stupid idea after all. A provocation he didn’t need right now.

“How do I get back?” he asked the blonde man still following him. He hated how raspy his voice sounded after been choked. He wondered how long this would remind him of the power Negan had, the danger he meant, that he was actually afraid of him and that it had been stupid to not be from the beginning.

“I’ll show you.”

Carl was relieved that he was allowed to call it a day. Dwight let him know that he would be picked up in the morning and that he shouldn’t do anything stupid, but Carl only gave him an annoyed look. As if he would be able to do anything apart from downing the painkillers and sleeping with a broken rib and an aching throat. If he would manage as much.

He let himself into his room and locked it behind him. He didn’t trust anyone here and he knew people would still prefer to see him dead over sleeping in a comfortable bed. And he wasn’t so sure anymore whether those people would follow Negan’s order to let him be unless he did something stupid, or not.

Carl slipped out of his clothes, careful not to provoke his body any more than necessary and changed into some new shirt and sweatpants. They still smelled like home and some kind of nostalgia hit him. He had never been someone to look back much. Not when Shane died, not when his mom died. Not when anything bad happened, but this was different. He didn’t know whether Negan planned on letting him go, but he felt like he wouldn’t. And worst of all, that he didn’t care all that much at this point. It seemed so useless, and this knowledge made him angry and anxious and sad - all at the same time. He hated emotions hitting him like this, never liked them much. Combined with the feeling of helplessness it was just too much to take and he felt his body tensing. He wanted to cry, to shout but there was nothing coming out of him. Instead he felt a numbness wrapping around him like a too tight blanket, slowly suffocating him.

He could do nothing than to lay on his bed, to stare at the ceiling and to wait for the numbness to stop choking him the same way Negan had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man. I wish I could skip the whole violence to get to the good part - and with good part I mean smut and all this. But no, there is some story building that needs to be done. Heh.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You really hit like a girl you know that?”
> 
> “Fuck you. Next time I’ll break your jaw.”
> 
> “I’m looking forward to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long. I think I have to adjust my uploading routine. From now on I will try to make it every two weeks (probably on Sundays). Hope you'll keep stickin' around.

Carl was disoriented when he woke in the middle of the night. At least he thought it was the middle of the night because there was no light in the room, though he had no clock to really be sure about it. He was shivering because he was not under the blankets but still laying on top of them – the same way he had settled earlier that night, too exhausted to do anything else, body aching too much, and too tired to put himself under the good-smelling sheets.

Too tired and not caring enough.

There was another loud knock, this time accompanied by a demanding voice. Now it didn’t take Carl too long to understand who it was and what he was expected to do. He felt hate beginning to burn in his chest but also another feeling making his stomach flip and forcing bile up his throat. It took a few seconds to realize that it was fear that caused the taste of acid burning in the back of his mouth. He felt real fear.

His entire body protested as he started to roll out of the bed. It seemed to be a better idea to slowly roll off the edge of the bed than to sit up first. It was unpracticable but provoking his ribs less, and therefore the best way to get up. There was another loud knock, another angry comment from the other side of the door. Carl took a deep breath to steady his nerves but regretted it immediately because of the stinging pain rolling through his body. His throat was dry, his mind racing when he unlocked the door with shaky hands. He hated that his body reacted like this to the man outside his room. How could one thing that had happened condition his body like that? He didn’t want to show fear or anything that would give the man the upper hand.

To his surprise the door wasn’t opened as soon as the lock clicked, when it was giving the signal that it was no longer securing the door. So he opened the door himself with sweaty hands. His eye widened slightly upon catching a glimpse of Negan standing there, casually leaning against the wall opposite of his door, Lucille at his side.

“You really took your time,” Carl heard him say and watched as he pushed himself from the wall, sauntering over. “May I come in, Sleeping Beauty?”

The sly grin sent shivers down his spine and Carl just stepped out of his way, allowing him into the barely used room. It was too early to call it _his room_ , and it didn’t feel like much of an intrusion – apart from the fear the man caused him to feel. He watched his every move, eye keeping track of every slight muscle working, too afraid to miss a sign, too afraid to notice something too late to react to.

Carl saw the man’s eyebrow slightly raised as he walked around the room, resting Lucille against Carl’s bedside table.

“Fuck me. Don’t tell me you haven’t slept in that bed? ‘Cause it’s one of those comfy ones we took from your town. Would be a waste not to use it. Could even be yours. Is it?”

Anger started to burn in Carl’s chest again, forcing its way up his still sore throat. He didn’t say anything to it, no matter how much he would like to, no matter how much he’d like to punch him again. He kept standing by the door, closing it slowly, but ready to run for it if it was necessary.

“C’mon, kid. I’m not here to taunt you,” he said and for a moment that typical grin disappeared, giving way to an almost honest look, “well, maybe a bit but that’s not the point.”

Carl watched Negan coming closer to him, his eyes focused on his tense body. His body screamed at him again to move out of the way, to back away, to bring as much space between them as possible but he stayed frozen in place, trying to stare the man down. If he backed off now, he knew it would be the biggest mistake he could make.

Negan reached for him and Carl flinched as those rough fingers touch his throat, caress the surely brightly colored skin. Still, he didn’t move away, just reacted slightly to the touch by frowning a bit. Not because it hurt – the touches were too light to inflict pain – but because his mind told him that he could be choked again any time. That this time, maybe he wouldn’t stop in time.

“Hell, kid, you know I didn’t like doing that shit,” he said and again his serious expression shook Carl. He wasn’t sure whether that was the truth or not, but he had no intention to speak up just now.

“Even _you_ must have enough brains to know that I can’t let your stubborn behavior slide in front of my men. Not after you killed two. Fuck, not even if you hadn’t. I even saved you a lot of trouble by doing it myself.”

Carl breathed out in relief as soon as the man pulled his hand away from his skin and started to pinch the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and sighting deeply. Carl almost believed his words and seeing him like this.

“You know that, right?”

Carl just stared at him, his throat still aching every time he swallowed. Part of him did know that his words were true – or at least logical – but it didn’t really make things better, and Negan was more of an idiot than Carl gave him credit for, if he believed it did.

“Fuck you,” he spat towards the man.

“What do you fuckin’ expect me to do? Because sure as hell I won’t say I’m sorry. You provoked me and as much as I admire the balls you have, you fuckin’ don’t do that again in front of others.”

Much to Carl’s confusion, Negan didn’t sound as angry as anticipated. Carl raised an eyebrow at the man.

“But you don’t really care about me doing it when no one’s around,” he stated. It wasn’t a question, but a statement and he waited for Negan to react.

He saw him contemplating his words and he watched as Negan ran his hand through his dark hair. The feeling of being somewhat safe, of not having to be afraid of the man, started to slowly creep back into him. His consciousness warned him about letting his guard down, but he couldn’t help it, really. Negan was dangerous, but dangerous like a wild animal was. If handled with enough care and caution it was not too much of a thread. Or shouldn’t be. Right?

This realization hit him hard and a lot of the tension fell from him. So, he had been right about Negan not _really_ wanting to kill him, hadn’t he? He was still sure he would, if he had to, and he wanted his men to believe that, too, but Carl knew better. It was no excuse but now Carl understood the man and the way he acted towards him. He needed to keep this up in order to keep his people in line, to keep this whole community together.

Carl hated the feeling of his hate dissipating, trying to not let go of it yet. There were still so many things to hate him for but seeing him like this, looking almost apologetic, melted something inside him.

No, he couldn’t start to understand Negan’s way of thinking, his morals, the thing he had built here. Carl knew that once he did, once he understood it, he would see that Negan’s way worked, that it was a good way to go in a world like this. That he and his people had simply been on the wrong side. And that would mean betraying his people.

The anger had prevented him from thinking too much about that one time they had, not even two days ago. He had been too busy with everything here that he had no chance to think about it much, but those thoughts started to creep back into his consciousness, lingering in the back of his head all the time, impatiently waiting to torment him. Especially as he looked into those hazel eyes that stared at him this particular way he couldn’t describe nor understand. The same way they had when he had been pressed into Negan’s mattress.

Carl unconsciously bit his lip and was only snapping out of his fantasies when he saw the man snipping his fingers in front of his face.

“You still in there?”

Carl blinked in confusion, having not fully heard what Negan just said. The only response he got was a dramatic sigh.

“Oh, forget it,” Negan said and sounded somewhat disappointed which made Carl wonder what he just missed. “Now I’d prefer to hear what gets you so distracted.”

There was a smirk on his face and Carl could see his perfect teeth showing, peeking behind those soft lips.

“That’s none of your business, actually,” Carl answered cockily.

He knew he was playing with fire here, but he had to find out what this was, what he could do and what he couldn’t. He had to see what would happen. He was still not too sure if Negan would let his sassy attitude slide when it was only the two of them, but since he had at least implied something like that… He had to _know_ , and he had to know it this very moment.

“Oh, I think it is,” the man said in a dangerous tone, and Carl had to keep himself from taking a step back as soon as Negan moved in closer. But Carl stood his ground - had to - not backing off the slightest, not even as there were less than a few inches separating them. The smell of the man – mainly his leather jacket – tickled his nose and Carl’s breathing changed slightly, got shallower.

“Because _I_ think it has something to do with me.”

“I bet you do. You are pretty full of yourself,” Carl said in response, his voice barely a whisper, still a little raspy from the choking. There was a hand on his cheek, all rough, and he was more than impressed that he didn’t even flinch this time. Was it the adrenaline kicking in?

The feeling was back. From one moment to the other, just induced by this tender touch. The feeling of Negan not wanting to hurt him. Carl began to gradually understand the rules here, the framework of their dance, the things he could do and the things he couldn’t, the things that would trigger something awful. And the things that wouldn’t, the things that were allowed to happen.

Negan didn’t seem to fail to notice this.

“Oh, so you aren’t afraid anymore?”

“Never was,” he lied and the man chuckled softly.

“We both know that’s a fuckin’ lie. But I sure as hell like it. After all I am glad my show didn’t break you.”

He moved his eyes down Carl’s body and fixed them on his torso.

“Well, didn’t break you mentally, at least.”

The man’s hand caressed his cheek once more, and his thumb brushed his lips. He felt how dry and cracked they were in the way Negan’s thumb wasn’t gliding smoothly over them. He shouldn’t respond to this, but he felt his mouth open slightly.

“Would have been a damn shame if you’d been broken that easily.”

Carl almost thought the man sounded full of affection. He wasn’t sure anymore whether he believed that he wasn’t capable of that or that he actually was. He couldn’t seem to get what part was acted and what part wasn’t but a part of him wanted to believe that this was the true part, the pure part, that this was how Negan was towards him.

His mind was literally overthinking all this and he was glad when he was being stopped from wasting any more time thinking about a riddle he couldn’t solve right now anyway. Instead his mind was more occupied with processing that something was invading his mouth, violating it. It took a moment for him to process that it was the man’s thumb that had being shoved into him, gliding over his teeth, pressing in between them to touch his tongue. He tasted salt and a hint of something dirty, most likely the remains of nicotine on his finger.

Carl stared at Negan, just keeping his eye on him but to his disappointment he didn’t return the look but was rather absorbed in watching his thumb moving over Carl’s teeth. Carl saw his tongue poke out of his mouth, only slightly but it did something to him. Something he hated and liked at the same time.

He was so tired of this conflict inside him. He couldn’t understand the way he felt. It was exhausting in a way he didn’t even know existed.

He kept staring at Negan and he knew that it was both a good and a bad thing to have a predatory animal fixated on oneself.

Carl disliked his mouth being violated like that and he bit down on the thumb, finally. He didn’t even know why it took him that long. He didn’t bite so much that it really hurt, but enough to let Negan know he was done with this shit. He only got a grin in return, though, and another hand on his head, tangled in his hair, pulling it slightly, letting him know that they had reached a stalemate here.

 _Now_ he had Negan’s attention, had their eyes locked on another. Those hazel eyes didn’t look angry like they had before, they didn’t look as dangerous like they did as he had been chocked – they only looked amused, as if he liked how this panned out.

“You are still mad, kid?”

Carl gripped his hand and pulled the thump out of his mouth but didn’t let it go, nor did Negan let go of his hair.

“Not even to begin with is _mad_ enough to describe what I am. You fuckin’ broke my rib, you choked me like the madman you are and _now_ you think you can shove your thumb down my mouth?”

Carl growled in a low voice and at this point he didn’t even care that his throat hurt with every word, he didn’t care about pissing Negan off. He really had enough.

“Could have shoved something else down your throat, y’know?”

“Oh, fuck you,” he said and turnd around to walk a few steps away from Negan, only to face him with a little bit more space between them. He felt like a cornered animal, like the only thing left was to attack, which would be the wrong thing to do - he knew that now - but this room was just too tiny to share it with this man right now.

“How about I fuck _you_ instead?”

Did his expression slip? Carl didn’t know, but what he knew was that his hand slipped and that he smacked Negan after walking back over to him. He didn’t hit him like before, not with his fist. Hitting him with his fist would have been so much more effective but instead he hit him with his flat hand, right across his face and he hoped he had hit the same spot as before; he hoped so much that it hurt as much as the sound of his hand colliding with the man’s cheek was loud.

“Heh. Guess I deserved that,” Negan replied, working his jaw a little and rubbing his cheek, which, to Carl’s satisfactions, began to turn red under his stubble. A little blood would have been more satisfying, but this was good enough.

“Yes, you did,” Carl said dryly and tried to catch his breath. He hadn’t noticed it even quickening, as he hadn’t noticed his heart pounding in his chest. He thought it was the adrenaline kicking in, but he wasn’t sure about it. When did he even start letting Negan get this much under his skin? He hated every second of it, feeling as if he had just lost their game, their fucked-up game he had intended to win.

All of a sudden Carl felt lips pressing onto his, not knowing whether he had moved, or Negan had, but not much caring about it anyway. It felt like his mind took the opportunity to shut itself off, glad not to be in charge for once. He was still alerted but nothing compared to the tension he had been under the last couple of days.

There were hands on both sides of his face, holding him in place, no matter whether they really had to or not. Carl moved in more, kissed the man back, not for one second thinking to let him take control. Not all of it, at least. He was the first one to open his lips, to force his tongue inside the man’s mouth. He watched him while doing it and was not disappointed upon seeing slight confusion showing on the man’s face, his brows slightly furrowed. But he didn’t fight it, let Carl have the upper hand instead.

So Carl went for it.

He pressed against Negan, wrapping his arms around his neck to pull him closer, further down, to get a better angle for kissing him, possessively, demandingly. If Negan thought he owned him, then this was the moment to show him he didn’t, that he wouldn’t let this asshole dominate him, that he had something to say in it, too. It was a stupid fight for dominance, but it was something Carl knew he needed right now if he wanted to stop going crazy here. In the situation he was in. Negan had taken him away from his family, owned everything they had but Carl wouldn’t let Negan having him on his knees, begging or whining, paralyzed with fear.

Carl pulled him closer and buried his fingers in his short locks, not so gently pulling his head back. He was surprised that Negan actually let him do that too, that he complied and didn’t fight him back much, not insisting on his position. Carl closed his eye once sure about it, kissed him more demandingly with teeth colliding, and biting at each other’s lips. Then suddenly he lost his footing, was lifted up, hands on his back and his ass, steadying him.

Carl winced at the sudden movement and Negan broke their kiss, looking at him, panting softly.

“Damn. You okay?”

Carl stared at him, catching his breath and nodding slowly. Fucking ribs.

“Yeah.”

Negan carried him to the bed, put him down on it with the greatest care Carl had seen from him so far. The moment his hands let him go, Carl rolled over to grab for the pills the doc had giving him, swallowing two of them.

“That’s my little psycho,” Carl heard him say kind of proud and then there was a big hand on his cheek, putting his hair away from his socket. He hated others to see it, but Negan always looked at it differently than the others did. No with disgust but with adoration or some other sick emotion Carl couldn’t grasp.

Carl pulled him down again and the man had to brace himself with both arms to not press into the frail body of him, to not hurt him more than he already had. This time he felt the man fight back in their fight for dominance, had him actually taking part in it. His tongue got pressed back, not allowed to intrude Negan’s mouth any longer as if the man had had enough of it.

Carl’s head was pressed into the mattress while Negan deepened their kiss. He let his tongue slip inside Carl’s mouth to explore it and casually controlling his tongue every time he tried to get the upper hand again. He heard the man groan every time he tried to oust him, and soon Carl stopped to contest him, which seemed to please Negan because he was humming contently into his mouth.

When they finally parted, they both panted and Carl felt hot. Every breath hurt his ribs, but he knew the painkillers would soon start to kick in. He looked into Negan’s eyes and for the first time he could see how dilated they were. It was a scary sight with him towering over him, but Carl fought that feeling. He had to be beyond fearing the man. Something told him that if he started to really fear him, to act as if he was scared, he’d lose.

He had no idea what he was doing here. This was wrong in every way and he knew it.

“You really hit like a girl you know that?”

Negan breathed against his lips, only inches away from him.

“Fuck you. Next time I’ll break your goddamn jaw,” is all Carl promised in response, not even thinking about letting him insult him like that without biting back. The man chuckled and grinned at him lewdly.

“I’m looking forward to that.”

Carl had no doubt he did, and it made him shiver. So, they finally settled on how this would be from now on, between the two of them. It had been painful to figure it out, but it was incredibly satisfying to finally know how they’d play this.

Negan straightened his back and Carl propped himself onto his elbows, not wanting to miss what he was doing. Would he leave? He looked at him confused and only got a smirk in return.

“Afraid I’ll leave you, princess?”

“More like keeping an eye on you not beating the shit out of me again.”

“C’mon. Thought we’d settled that,” he said in a faked hurt tone and kicked his boots off, only to get down on the bed again, this time straddling Carl. His first reaction was to brace himself for a sharp pain running through his body, but Negan didn’t seem to intent to really sit down on him. He didn’t even put an ounce of his weight down on Carl’s body.

“Lemme see that.”

There were fingers on his chin, lifting it a bit, and he understood what he meant by wanting to see ‘that’. He had no idea what he looked like, but he was sure there were already marks on his neck. After all they were nothing else than hematomas and those things tended to appear quickly. Judging by Negan’s look, they were visible. The man traced them with his fingertips, and Carl watched him closely as he did so, trying to catch every small frown, every hint that could lead to what Negan was thinking right now. He didn’t look sorry. Or worried. But he did look lost in thought as he let his finger glide over his sensitive skin. It didn’t take long for Carl to imagine the grip around his throat again and there was panic welling up in him. He gripped Negan’s hand and dragged it away from his throat.

“Don’t,” he warned and looked him dead serious in the eyes.

“C’mon. Just wanted to have a look.”

“I don’t fuckin’ care. I said ‘don’t’.”

Negan smirked at him and removed his hand out of his grip but didn’t move it back to his bruised skin. At least he did get what a ‘no’ meant. Instead of returning his hand to Carl’s face, he shoved both of them under his shirt, let his fingers trail over Carl’s stomach and caused him to breathe in sharply. His muscles tensed under Negan’s warm hands moving over them, but he didn’t stop him. Not as he trailed his muscles up to his chest and not as he pulled the shirt over his head.

Carl stayed propped up on his elbows and watched as Negan touched his swollen skin that began to turn purple around the place his rib had given in. The touch didn’t hurt but then again, he barely touched him, he only brushed his skin and Carl shuddered from it. How could Negan be like this when not even twelve hours ago he himself had inflicted those bruises?

“Like what you did?” Carl asks without hesitation. “It fuckin’ hurts.”

“Like I said, it’s your fault. Next time follow the rules and none of that has to happen again. I don’t get off of this shit.”

He looked Carl in the eye, without his playful grin, only seriousness on his face.

“Maybe a bit. But not unless _you_ get off of it.”

The the man raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking about it.

“But I don’t think you do.”

Carl had no chance to reply something, only breathed in as Negan started to lower his head, gently kissing his bruised neck, tracing his lips over the sensitive skin. Carl hated the touch and the pressure on his throat, but he let him do it anyway. If he wanted to choke him again, he would have already done it, wouldn’t he?

Carl leaned back and sunk into the mattress, feeling Negan’s stubble scratch over his skin, licking over his Adam’s apple as his hands moved down his sides. Carl ran his fingers through Negan’s hair and dug them into it, somehow enjoys the soft and tender touches the man inflicted on him. God, he knew this wasn’t right, but it felt nice anyway. Being touched like this.

He looked down when Negan stopped caressing his neck and started to move farther down instead. He winced when the man bit his nipple and a now dull pain pulsed through his body. At least the pain killers seemed to begin working. Negan’s tongue glided over his nipple, in an apologetic manner and he rubbed his fingers over his scalp in return.

“I would love to fuck you, y’know?”

Carl shivers upon hearing that. Negan’s voice was deep and vibrating against his skin. It was such a soothing sound. Carl felt the man’s face move even further down his body, leaving trails with his lips and his tongue and his beard scratching over his flesh.

“Like the last time. Fucking you until you scream in pleasure. You remember that?”

Carl looked at the man and caught his gaze as he parted from his body for a moment to look up. Carl swallowed but didn’t say anything to it. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted that or not, but his breath was already hitched, and his body had decided for him.

“But it wouldn’t be fun after all. Not in the state you’re in.”

As if to emphasize this statement his finger brushed a bit too hard over his swollen rib and Carl had to suck in his breath. The pain was duller now, but it was still there.

“Let me do something else. All my wives love it when I do that to them and hell, I am eager to show you what happens if you don’t fuck things up. After that you can chose what you prefer.”

“You really love to hear yourself talk, don’t you?”

Negan grinned at him and huffed in amusement.

“Sassy as if nothin’ happened, huh?”

Then he put his mouth back unto Carl’s skin and placed kisses everywhere, nibbling at his nipples until they were hard and red. Carl couldn’t keep himself from moaning softly. He covered his eye with his arm but only until he felt Negan moving his body farther down to get access to his pants, unbuckling his belt and opening his jeans.

“I thought you said-” Carl hated how panicked his voice sounded but it was too late. Negan had already heard it and looked up at him, a small grin on his face.

“Ah-ah. I know what I said, and I said I won’t fuck you. Just let me show you a thing or two.”

He started to pull down his jeans and Carl watched as he licked his lips and suddenly he knew exactly where this was going. Was he really going to jerk him off? He didn’t seem like the guy who’d do that. Why would he do that without getting anything back? It just didn’t make any sense.

Carl swallowed hard and watched as he kept undressing him – or rather shoving his boxers down. Carl was bracing himself to feel his hand on his already half hard cock. He did feel it, but then he also feels something wet and hot wrapping around him and he gasped in surprise and confusion and pleasure all at once. He inhaled deeply, and his bruises sent a dull pain through his body, causing him to lean back into the sheets, grabbing Negan’s head hard.

“…fuck…”

He didn’t get more than that out as he felt Negan wasting no time, sucking him off with practiced motions. The feeling was overwhelming and intense. He felt dizzy and the room seemed to spin. He couldn’t believe Negan was really blowing him, giving him his first blowjob ever. He practically clawed into his short hair, torn between wanting to keep him exactly there and pulling him off him.         

Carl’s blood was not only rushing to his cock but also making his face feel hot and he took one arm to cover his face and his mouth, to stop himself from moaning like an idiot, thirsty teenager. The wet noises Negan made while doing him threatened to drive him crazy and he squirmed under him, only held in place by a hand firmly resting on his hip, keeping him pinned in place.

“C’mon, babe, at least let me hear your voice,” the man breathed against Carl’s cock, only parting enough as what was needed in order to get those words out.

His breath was hot and still it sent a cold shiver through his entire body. A hand gently pulled his arm from his face. Carl dared to look down at Negan nestled between his legs, content grin on his face before he got his head back down, continuing what he had started.

As if this whole thing wasn’t intense enough, he suddenly felt one of Negan’s hands on his tight, then wandering to his balls, massaging them until he moaned in pleasure, barely being able to hold himself back. It felt so good, so damn good to be touched like this that he didn’t even care about each tensing muscle hurting him a little. Even the pain was sweet with wet lips around him. The doc had said he should rest, but he really didn’t want to miss this. The ache was nothing compared to the warmth building in his belly.

Carl grabbed the sheets and released Negan’s hair, giving him even more space to swallow him – and he did swallow him. Memories of Carl doing the same came back to him and they only made his lust grow fast. His breathing was fucked, and he bucked under him, feeling so close to his climax when Negan released him. Carl growled in frustration and started to curse incoherently every single curse he could think of. He glared down at the man giving him a smug grin before Carl pressed him down again. There was a small chuckle before Negan took him in again, working his tongue against his throbbing cock, this time seemingly willing to end it satisfyingly.

It really didn’t take much to push Carl over the edge then.

When he came he covered his mouth again, muffling his voice as much as possible. He was sure someone would hear them if he wouldn’t. His hips still moved when he rode his orgasm out and there was sweat trickle down his forehead. Negan continued to suck him, to lick him clean, apparently having swallowed every bit of his come, until his body stopped moving, until Carl let out a soft moan.

Carl kept his eye shut as the man released his cock. He winced slightly at the loss of the heat around him, the loss of the nice feeling. Negan moved but he didn’t dare to look, his face still flushed hot and full of embarrassment but also satisfaction. He only opened his eye when he felt hot lips on his, until he tasted something foreign on his tongue as Negan pries his lips open.

They looked at each other when Negan let Carl taste himself, chuckling slightly upon Carl’s frown. But he didn’t pull away. Instead he returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around the neck of the man.

It’s Negan who pulled away first, putting a sweaty strand of hair out of Carl’s face.

“See? I can be real fuckin’ nice,” the man breathed into the tiny space between them, licking his lips.

Of course he had to show his self-satisfied smirk.

“It’s your choice if you prefer being beaten up or getting this.”

Carl only groaned in frustration, being at a loss of words. He was still trying to comprehend what had just happened. He rolled to the side, to not have to face him any longer. He sat up, gritting his teeth as he did, and pulled his pants back up.

“Fuck off. I didn’t ask for this,” he said but his voice betrayed him again. He didn’t sound as angry as he had intended to. He really needed to work on that.

“Heh, didn’t seem to bother you at all, though.”

Negan got up from the bed and Carl eyed him suspiciously. This wasn’t all, was it? There was more to come, right? It always was with him. And Carl also couldn’t not see the huge bulge in Negan’s pants. He would want something in return, he was sure of it.

“Think about how you want your time here to be. I have no fucking problem to break more of your bones if you want me to, but _this_ is also an option. Just so y’know.”

With that Negan turned around and headed for the door. Carl didn’t stop him, didn’t say a word, though he opened his mouth to say something – anything – but there was nothing coming out. So, he let him leave, closing the door behind him.

This was awful. So very, very awful.

He had enjoyed it, and he felt ashamed for it, wanting to scream into his pillow like an angry kid. But instead Carl only covered his face once more with his arms, thinking about what this meant, thinking about the rules he had finally come to understands, thinking about how he would act towards him from now on. He had been here barely a few days, and everything was already fucked up.

 _He_ was fucked up for letting the leader of the Saviors – his enemy – suck him off and liking it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some more Negan/Carl interaction. Heh. Hope Negan's behavior makes more sense now, his principles, and all that.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are comin’ with us.”
> 
> “Why?”
> 
> “’Cause I heard you did a fuckin’ good job and I want to entertain you a bit.”
> 
> “Now get your ass into the fucking truck and stop looking at me like an angsty teenager.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas y'all!

The next days passed in the blink of an eye after Negan’s visit that night. Carl experienced them more or less in a state of passiveness. He was still wary, but he followed the orders he got, hoping to get back to his family sooner if he did.

But Carl was not allowed to go to Alexandria for the next pickup or the one after, but he continued to follow Dwight around. He saw Daryl a few times but was not allowed to talk to him – of course not. They exchanged looks anyway and let each other know that they were doing okay. Though Carl felt like a traitor after what he had done with Negan - twice. Or what he had allowed him to do. He wanted to talk to Daryl, not about that, but in general- Seeing the man around gave him a feeling of security, of home. He had never thought he would need it this badly. When he had agreed to take the blame, to follow Negan back to the Sanctuary, he hadn’t imagined the time here being this bad.

He saw that Daryl hadn’t given in yet. He was still wearing the prisoner’s attire. So, even if he knelt, he hadn’t given up completely.

But Carl had, in a way. And he felt beyond terrible about that.

Carl wondered what Daryl thought of him, being allowed to move rather freely around the Sanctuary, being close to Negan’s inner circle, working for him. He knew that Daryl wouldn’t condemn him for surviving but he wondered how much less he would think of him if he knew that he hadn’t fought back in every possible way. That he – in some way – had given in.

After that night Carl also started to kneel whenever they passed Negan. He did it reluctantly, but he did it with tensed body and gritted teeth. Even if he didn’t _want_ to do it, his bruises needed time to heal before he could pick another fight.

One fight at a time.

For now, he wanted to survive, wanted to keep quiet for the sake of not being bothered or beaten or harassed in any other way. He knew this was selfish and cowardly, and he was disgusted by himself for it. Sometimes he tried to imagine what his father would want him to do. He would probably want him safe, no matter what it took.

Dwight seemed to be pleased with his behavior, though Carl couldn’t grasp why. He didn’t ask about it, either. He just accepted it in silence. They continued working together, their kind of small talk every time they were in a car together. Sometimes it even felt normal, somehow good, with the routine they had finally fallen into around each other. Carl also found out about Dwight once been married to one of Negan’s wives. They only touched upon that topic, having ended there by accident, both of them quickly dropping it again as soon as they got how uncomfortable talking about it made them – though because of different reasons. Carl didn’t ask about Negan’s wives again, or about how Sherry ended up there. He wondered if he had met her the one time he had visited the harem with Negan.

Carl still felt eyes on him every time he made his way through the Sanctuary. Most of the looks that he got were hateful but there were also a few that seemed to pity him. He had decided against covering up the purple marks around his neck. He didn’t care about people seeing them. If anything, he liked the effect they had to have to keep people away. He knew people would prefer him dead instead of eating with them in the same room, so everything to make them leave him alone was fine.

But the hateful stares started to change after a pickup went wrong.

They went to pick things from a new community, apparently one that wasn’t okay with the way things would work from then on. They were only a small group, but they had weapons, at least a few. Carl was helping to load a truck when he saw a man – their leader as it seemed – pointing a gun at Dwight, letting him know that they wouldn’t let them take away all their stuff any longer.

“We won’t let you do that,” he said with a firm voice, finger at the trigger, ready to shoot.

All those sounds were too familiar to Carl and the whole scene made him want to throw up, but the adrenaline was kicking in fast and let him focus on the thing in front of him, eased his nervousness. It was do or die in situations like these. There was no time to let memories haunt him.

There were other men and women, too, all in all the same number as the people that had come from the Sanctuary for the pickup. Carl didn’t know how heavily they were armed, but at least five people were holding guns, trying to keep the Saviors exactly where they were, preventing them from pulling their own weapons.

Carl was lucky that no one was pointing a gun at him yet. They probably thought a kid like him was no threat, so no one payed all that much attention to him. He didn’t hesitate for even a second. He pulled the gun that had been given to him only two days ago and shot the man threatening Dwight.

He would later tell himself that it had been out of a reflex, nothing more. Only a reflex that one had to evolve in a world like this – someone pointed a gun at you, you make sure to be the first one to pull the trigger. Though in retrospect it was a stupid move. It could have caused the other people start shooting. Luckily they were too surprised and the Saviors reacted first. Otherwise Carl would have been in a whole lot of shit.

The rest of the people were stripped off their weapons soon after and everyone who wasn’t cooperating killed on the spot, easy as that. It only took one execution to get the rest cooperating, though.

“You don’t fuckin’ move or you’ll be the next,” one of the men from the Sanctuary yelled at the remaining people that were lying in the dirt, not moving a muscle, too afraid to end as their comrades had.

Carl and the others were ordered to get all the weapons the community had left, together with their supplies. Then he and Dwight left for the Sanctuary, while the others kept an eye on them until Negan would come to settle this.

The ride back was filled with tension and Carl stared out of the window, like he always did. It scared him that he didn’t really feel sorry for them or the man he had killed. He hadn’t enjoyed it, but he was far from regretting it and that was the thing that scared him – the indifference. It had been necessary, right? If they had played by the rules, nothing of that would have had to happen. He had protected himself.

“Thank you for that,” Dwight said at one point of their ride, looking at him sideways.

Carl only eyed him and nodded slightly before continuing to look out of the window.

As soon as they arrived, Carl started to unload the truck, not knowing what else to do. He was up for work that didn’t involve thinking much because he preferred to not think about what had happened, what he had done to safe one of the people that brought so much pain to him and his family. And he didn’t think he was supposed to linger around, when Dwight talked to Negan.

He overheard the conversation between Negan and Dwight anyway.

“We took all their guns, most of their food. Steve and the others are waiting for you.”

“Good, good. Gotta teach them a lesson, don’t we?”

Negan seemed angry but also kind of excited. His jaw was tense but there was the slightest hint of a grin playing on his face. Was he just happy that none of his men got killed or was he looking forward to punishing those people? Carl didn’t like this sight and hurried to get more boxes out of the truck. He really didn’t want to be any more involved than necessary.

“You keep unloading the truck and stay here. I’ll take David and a few more for the visit. Let’s see how many of them will shit their damn pants.”

Carl tried to avoid their gazes, mainly Negan’s as he had during the last weeks. He still didn’t know how to act towards him and he had settled for ignoring him as much as possible. He hurried away as soon as the conversation between the two men ended. He didn’t want to get caught lingering around, the risk of catching another beating for it too prevalent in his mind. Even though Negan hadn’t touched him since the choking incident, he didn’t trust the calmness. Negan and him also hadn’t talked since then and Carl didn’t plan on changing that soon.

“Carl!” he heard his name being shouted after him and froze in place.

He thought about just keep walking for a moment but decided against it. As he turned around he saw Negan gesturing him with two fingers to come to him. Carl’s eye was fixed on Lucille that was casually leaning against the man’s shoulder. He made his way over with long strides, not wanting to give the man any reason to feel provoked.

“You are comin’ with us.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I heard you did a fuckin’ good job and I want to entertain you a bit.”

There was a tiny pause, a sly grin.

“And because I say so. If you haven’t forgotten I’m the one in charge here.”

Carl swallowed, fought his nervousness. Yeah, right. How could he forget that _he_ was the one in charge?

“Now get your ass in the fuckin’ truck and stop looking at me like an angsty teenager.”

* * *

The trip there was quiet. Carl was seated in the middle of the truck with Negan on the passenger seat and David driving. David gave him the creeps, ever since Carl had seen him talk to Enid, making her say ‘please’ over and over just so she could keep her balloons. Carl had no doubt he was a sociopath just as everyone close to Negan, but David was worse than most. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he’d harass people just for fun or some sick stuff like that. Negan seemed to follow his principles, Dwight appeared to be a decent guy somehow, but David was someone Carl preferred not to run into on his own somewhere in the Sanctuary. 

Arriving at the community, Negan wasted no time to show his cocky attitude, to order the Saviors that had stayed to get the people out here, to get them kneeling down in a semicircle just like Carl and his people had to back then. Carl felt his stomach drop at the sight, but he kept himself together, didn’t want to show any weakness. He stayed back, watching from a little distance.

There were about twenty-five people, men, women, a teenager maybe fifteen years old, though Carl knew that in this world it was hard to guess the age and be correct with it. Maybe he was already in his twenties but still looked like this because of malnourishment. But in the end, it wasn’t important, really.  Most of them were looking terrified as Negan walked up and down in front of them, swinging Lucille like a promise in front of their faces. Carl couldn’t blame them. He remembered that night too well to not relate 

“So, I heard that you wanted to discuss something with me.”

Negan’s voice was loud, breaking through the occasional sobs that filled the open space. Carl avoided looking at him, but studied the kneeling people, their faces, their postures. Some part of him felt taken back. Another part – the bigger part – knew that they had brought that upon themselves.

It was so much easier to distant oneself from something than to allow it to get too close. Carl had learned that, that it was better to not feel with people that weren’t your family. It made you stronger, made you capable of protecting what you loved.

“Well, _here I am_. Who of you wants to bring it forward?”

Carl watched as he pointed at one after another with Lucille.

“C’mon, I have business to attend. Don’t waste my time or I will get real fuckin’ mad.”

His voice dropped dangerously, and Carl felt sweat trickling down his back. This whole scene unnerved him beyond words, and he fought memories that wanted to come back with all their force. Memories he had buried deep inside him, not wanting to think about them, to _feel_ them ever again. But this scene happening right in front of him cracked his walls, reminded him of how it felt to kneel in front of Negan, how it felt to get Lucille pointed at one’s face, how afraid of losing loved ones it made one.

He didn’t feel sorry for those people, only for _his_ people and what they had been through.

“You.”

Carl watched as Negan connected Lucille with the forehead of a woman. Not with force, but rather gently pushing her head back, forcing her to look at him. She made a terrible sound, all afraid, staring at him with wide eyes, filled to the brim with fear. Her face was tear-stained, and she pleaded, pleaded desperately that he’d have mercy. He did the same with another man, and then with the teenager. The boy didn’t cry, and Carl swallowed. He looked at Negan exactly like he thought he had back then.

“We won’t hand over our stuff anymore.”

The silence was suddenly broken, and all eyes were on the boy.

Carl felt like he was being choked, he couldn’t breathe anymore, and he wanted to tear his eye away from what was happening, didn’t want to see what would inevitably follow.

“Oho, look at that. You’ve got balls, I like that. You also wanna enlighten me why not?”

Negan squatted in front of the boy, leaning on Lucille, smug grin on his face. How could one person enjoy such a terrible thing that much? Carl couldn’t understand it and he wanted to turn around, to wait inside the truck, but he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to. He knew Simon was watching him and he had no doubt Negan had instructed him to keep Carl around. It was the thing Negan would do. So, he stayed, clenched his jaw at the sight and forced his lungs to take one breath after another.

“’Cause we can’t live like that. That’s _our_ food.”

Carl heard the woman next to the boy apologizing for him, saying they were sorry and that he didn’t know what he was saying, that he had just lost his father, that he should spare him. That he was only a kid.

“We are sorry, we are. Please, please. We will provide for you, just…please. We already lost five of our people. Please.”

“And I think five is too little for the dirty trick you played.”

Negan rose again and walked around in the semicircle of people.

“I think I have to teach you a lesson – all of you. So, who’s idea was this?” No response. “I assume the one who thought it’d be a good idea to try threatenin’ us is among the dead. That guy?”

Negan pointed towards a corpse. When there was still no response he did the same with another dead man.

“That one here?”

Sobbing, then someone confirmed it with a strained voice. It’s the man Carl had shot.

“Okay, wasn’t that hard, huh? I need you to work with me here. I think it’s a good thing the one who had the idea is already gone. A good start. No bad influence around any longer, right?”

Carl’s eye followed Negan and how he kept walking, swinging Lucille through the air. He almost grazed people’s heads and it was obvious just how afraid they were. None of them dared to move besides the flinches Negan provoked them to perform.

“So, he got a wife?”

When no one said anything, Negan’s voice let everyone know just how pissed he was due to the lack of participation.

“C’mon, I’m not gonna punish a woman! I’m a gentleman after all. I just want to _know_.”

Carl paid close attention to the people kneeling and it didn’t escape his attention that a few people started to look towards the woman next to the boy.

“It’s you, sweetheart.”

Negan seemed so incredibly satisfied that there was a huge smile on his face. He squatted next to her again and brushed a few tears away with his gloved hand.

“I already know how sorry you are, sweety. But I just want to make sure that you will keep all those people in line from now on. You understand that, don’t you? Can you do that for me?”

With one smooth motion, almost too sudden for Carl to follow, Negan grabbed the boy and pushed him with the face into the dirt. The woman screamed in shock, tried to get up, but Negan’s men pushed her back on her knees. The boy didn’t struggle, just looked at him as good as possible with a hateful glare. Carl swallowed though his mouth his dry. His mouth has never felt this dry.

Did Negan do this on purpose? Pressing the kid down the same way he had done with him? Would he get a hatched from somewhere and threaten the woman to bring it down on her son’s arm?  
  
“Hah! Bingo. I _love_ this game! So, you are the son of her and Mr. Leader-who-had-a-stupid-idea-that-got-him-killed. Would explain why you are looking at me like that. You know, _I_ didn’t kill him.”

No, it was me, Carl thought.

“But I have the feeling if I leave you here, you will become just like your dad. Kids these days always try to follow into the footsteps of their parents, mostly their dads. And I can’t have that. No, no, just can’t have that. C’mon, get up.”

Carl felt another cold shiver upon hearing those words. He knew those words were also partially a message to him.

Negan straightened his back and waited for the boy to get up. He reluctantly did so, glaring at Negan, then at his men. Then he caught Carl’s gaze and Carl was caught off-guard by the immense hate he had to face. Of course, he could understand him.  

“Now, turn around and look at your people. It will be the last time you see them for now.”

“Please, don’t take him away from me. Oh, please, please don’t.”

The boy’s mother was sobbing and tried everything she could to convince him.

“Please, please…I will take care of him. He won’t be a problem. Please just don’t take my boy away. I beg you.”

“Sorry, but I don’t make the fucking rules.”

Negan grinned while saying that, faking compassion with his voice all smooth, almost sympathetic. Carl’s stomach clenched at that sound, but he couldn’t look away.

“Actually, I do, but let’s not talk about that. Fact is, all of you should take a good look at him. After all it’s the last time all of you are together.”

The place was filled with silence that it was almost audible. The boy didn’t move a single muscle. Then Negan raised Lucille up in the air and smacked the boy’s head sideways, bringing him down hard, a pool of blood quickly forming around his head in the dirt. The woman cried out, couldn’t form coherent sentences, not even words anymore. All one could hear were pained noises, screams, her voice breaking. Negan’s men held her down and she kept crying, screaming, pleading, though there was nothing to plead for anymore.

Negan brought Lucille down once more, drawing more blood, splattering it on himself and the woman’s face. Carl was sure that it was not only blood but also brain tissue, skin, maybe even tiny bone fragments. He remembered Glenn’s face, Abraham’s. It all came back to him, but he knew this was different. Somehow. This time, he was part of it. Whether he wanted to or not. This time he wasn’t at the receiving end.

The woman continued to cry, she screamed, she fell to the ground, crawled to her son – and this time Negan gestured his men to let it slide. She pulled his limp body into her lap and started to rock him like a baby. Carl couldn’t stop looking at the scene. It hurt, hurt so much to see it. When he had shot the man, it had been a defensive act. This, this was only cruel. Carl wasn’t sure how to react to this. He couldn’t stop staring at the lifeless body of the boy. This could have been him. There were so many similarities between them that he was almost throwing up. But with all the similarities, there was also a huge difference between them – the boy was dead, and Carl was not.

_He was dead, and I am not._

“I hope this was enough for you to know your place. You will provide for me. You belong to me. And if you don’t want to belong to me, I don’t fuckin’ care. There is either that or this.”

Negan pointed at the sobbing mother with her dead child, taking his time to look at each and every person kneeling in front of him. Only few people were looking, most of them preferred to keep their heads low and to stare at the dirt.

“Keep that in mind when you try to shoot my men again. Carl.”

Negan ordered him to come over. He just stared, not able to will his feet to move. He needed a harsh push from David to finally fall into motion, to walk over to him. There were eyes on him – from both the Saviors and the people that were kneeling, crying, looking either devastated or emotionless, numb.

“You see this?”

Negan had leaned down to him, his words no more than a whisper.

“This is how you teach people respect. This is how this works. Lucky you, that you are standing here with me, and not being dead with her.”

The man looked at the still sobbing woman that had begun to rock herself and her dead son.

“Hold Lucille for me, will ya?”

He handed her over to Carl and turned to his men.

“Get their weapons. I want every single one. They can keep their knives but nothing more. Ration their food and meds. They have to earn their privileges again.”

Carl heard how people started to act, Saviors shouting things, starting to collect everything they could find and putting it into boxes, taking it away. Most of the community’s people kept kneeling with their heads hanging low. Some started to hold each other, others watched the Saviors taking away every last bit of what they owned once, what they had worked so hard for. When Carl looked at them, he only saw hateful eyes on him. And he couldn’t blame them for it. After all, he had been the one who had helped to prevent their attack. Who knew. If he hadn’t shot the first man, maybe they would have had a chance. Maybe they would have had succeeded, if only for a short time.

They were the same as Carl and his people had been. Before they knew just _what_ the Saviors were. They had thought they could win just because until then they had always won, they had survived, and they had thought they would continue to survive, to win. They hadn’t known anything about Negan and the Saviors, and Carl knew that these people here were the same. They didn’t know a thing. Only that this one-eyed kid was holding Negan’s bat, the bat that had crushed the skull of one of their people only minutes ago just to prove a point. The same kid that had shot their people, the kid that was acting like a dog on a leash, doing anything the big bad wolf wanted him to.

No, he really couldn’t blame them. But he didn’t feel sorry for them either. He felt sorry for his people. For Glenn, for Abraham. He felt sorry for himself that he had been reminded of that night by all this. But these people?

“C’mon, Carl. Get Lucille and your ass over here.”

Carl turned around and his eye met Negan’s. He was leaning against the truck, seemingly waiting for him to join, so they could leave. Carl didn’t look back to the people whose will to fight back had been either crushed or only started to develop. He wasn’t sure which it was, but he knew that if they would ever again point a gun at him – or Dwight, maybe even some other Saviors - he wouldn’t hesitate to kill them. After all, that was what this world was lik

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. What a Christmas chapter. I planned to write more, but I ran out of time. So I guess the next chapter will get longer instead. Hope you enjoyed it tho!
> 
> Just a gentle reminder that you can drop by my tumblr - buriedbrain.tumblr.com


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "At least I don’t get off of power games and tell myself I was killing innocent people for a greater good or some shit.”
> 
> “Don’t tell me you never killed an innocent person. No one is innocent anymore. Not in this world. Maybe that little angle of sister you have…Oh, c’mon. I love her. Don’t look at me as if I would eat her.”

Negan ordered David to stay behind with the others to grab all the stuff to bring it back to the Sanctuary. Carl listened to him giving Simon some orders which the man with the ridiculous mustache took with a nod. Carl didn’t quite get the dynamic, but he figured Simon was important. Far more important than David and probably even more important than Dwight. No one had bothered to fill him in about the hierarchy in the Sanctuary, but he thought he was getting it slowly.

At least those past weeks hadn’t been wasted in that regard. If he would ever make it back to Alexandria, he had some kind of knowledge about the place and hopefully also about how to burn it to the ground.

“C’mon, get in the car, you’re comin’ with me.”

Negan walked around the car to get in the driver’s seat and waited for Carl to hop in, too. When the kid was standing in front of the car, still contemplating if it would be a good idea to be in a car all alone with him, Negan leaned out of the open window, his hand resting against the door.

“That was an order, kid. Or would you prefer to drive back with David?”

Negan had an eyebrow raised at him and Carl shuddered at the thought of David. Being alone in a car with that creep was the last thing he wanted to do, and Negan seemed to know that. It made Carl wonder if he was aware what kind of vibes David gave people. Probably. After all, he was an observant person and Carl would be really surprised if Negan had no clue. Riding back to the Sanctuary with Negan wasn’t his favorite scenario, but everyone was better than the man with the sick look.

“Thought so.”

Carl got in the car, not minding buckling himself up, and letting Lucille rest in the footwell. There were so many things trying to kill him, it would be almost comical if an accident would be the thing ending his life. He didn’t fail to notice Negan’s eyes on him, not sure if he expected him to use the safety belt or not, but he settled for ignoring him. Instead he was watching the people walking around or still kneeling on the ground. It was a weird sight, especially since he knew he should feel more connected to this community than he did.

Negan started the engine and pulled the truck back the same way they had come. Carl had remembered the way, not sure whether he would need that knowledge or not. It had become his second nature remembering all kinds of things, and it had saved him more than once so far. It was probably one of those things one had to develop if wanting to survive in this world.

“So, you liked the show?” the older man asked after a few minutes of silent car ride. Carl was impressed that he had even made it that long without commenting on shit. It seemed as if Negan never shut up. Really, never, and it annoyed the hell out of Carl, made him angry and uncomfortable at the same time.

“ _Liked_? You’re a sick fuck. You wanted to remind me of when it was me – _us_ – right?”

Carl’s tone was hateful, and he glared at the man steering the car along an empty road – empty apart from the occasional walker or broken-down car on the side of it. He wasn’t stupid. He knew why Negan had picked the boy to prove a point. It wasn’t because he had been the son of the idiot that had started it, it was because of the similarity to Carl.

“Huh? You really think that?”

Negan raised an eyebrow at him and Carl felt the urge to steady the steering wheel the longer the man kept his eyes on him rather than the street before them. It was empty, yes, but it still made him uneasy. Maybe buckling up wouldn’t have been such a bad idea after all.

“What else should I think? Why else would you drag me out here to watch that shit?”

Negan kept his eyes on the road for a moment and seemed to really think about his words.

“It wasn’t about you. Though that thought crossed my mind, I admit that.”

Carl looked at him in confusion, not getting what he was trying to say there. He didn’t even _want_ to get any of that shit, didn’t even _want_ to think about what reasons the man might or might not have. He only wanted to get back home, to plot a murder and to forget this whole thing. He didn’t need the man’s logic creeping into his head more than necessary.

He wanted to forget how little he had cared about those people. He was angry, yes, but only because he couldn’t get Glenn’s face out of his mind where he had buried it so carefully.

“Then about what, then?”

Carl was yelling at this point and he had turned towards the man, clearly agitated in a way.

“Y’know I couldn’t tolerate that. This is not about me being a control freak or a monster – but hell, I probably am both – this is about _all the fucking people_ back at the Sanctuary. If I had let that slide, then people would riot. Like your dad did. And if that happened, all the people at the Sanctuary were in danger. And I fuckin’ can’t let that happen.”

There was a small pause and Carl rung for words but couldn’t think of anything to say, too taken aback by that speech, so Negan continued and his chance to interrupt him vanished with it.

“Now, I know you’re a smart kid. And I know you are not dumb enough to not see that even with your grudge against me. This,” Carl followed Negan’s gesture towards the factory coming in sight at the horizon, “is so much bigger than two of your dead friends or a dead kid you don’t even know the name of. Whose father _you_ killed by the way.”

Carl moved his eye from the building back to the man that was now looking at him with serious, piercing eyes.

“I know you are not sorry for them. I fuckin’ see that.”

Carl swallowed hard, wanting to flee this situation as quickly as possible. He wanted to leave right now, and hell, he would even jump out of the car if they weren’t going this fast and he wouldn’t be sure to break his neck in the process. This man was able to let him feel an immense variety of emotions in such a short time and it frightened him. Especially because normally he was so much better with keeping calm, but Negan made his blood boil or freeze or doing some other shit effortlessly.

“We aren’t that different, Carl. _That’s_ why you are here. That, and because you really needed some discipline beaten into you. Hope that part’s over though.”

“We _are_ different,” Carl protested but Negan had been quite effective with making him insecure about so many things. Mostly things concerning how he saw himself and who he thought he was. Carl was speaking with a hoarse voice, not quite sure whether he wanted to look into Negan’s eyes or not. But he did it, in the end. He didn’t want to back off. He wanted to stand his ground. But all he got was a loud laugh from the man and he was so close to grab the steering wheel in order to drive them both into a tree.

“Now, you really think that?”

Negan gave him the most complacent smile while asking his question.

“I _know_ it. At least I don’t get off of power games and tell myself I was killing innocent people for a greater good or some shit.”

“Don’t tell me you never killed an innocent person. Though innocent is a fucking difficult word, don’t you think? No one is innocent anymore. Not in this world. Maybe that little angle of sister you have…”

Carl froze at the mention of Judith and glared at Negan like an animal ready to attack no matter if it would have a chance to win or not.

“Oh, c’mon. I love her. Don’t look at me as if I would eat her. So, you wanna see her and you dad and the rest of those idiots in your tiny town again, right? You can. What? You thought I wouldn’t let you? And here I thought you were a smart kid. I’ll take you there for the next pick-up day but only if you behave until then.”

“Behave-”

“Keep helping Dwight, or Simon. Maybe I will assign you to him next. Huh. Anyway. You don’t kill anyone besides when they are pulling a gun on you, keep stickin’ to the rules, and we will see a damn sweet reunion soon.”

Carl couldn’t believe his ears, and he was almost too afraid to ask further about it. He was too afraid Negan would change his mind again if he did. But he _had_ to know, _had_ to ask.

“You really gonna let me go back?”

“Sure. Am not a complete monster. Though – don’t get me wrong - you’ll come back with me once we are done in Alexandria.”

“What? Why? I thought-”

Negan gave him a look that made his blood freeze and silenced him mid-sentence.

“Because I say so. Because you belong to me. You think a few weeks away from home - helping out here - is worth two lives? Fuck, kid. We are far from bein’ square. Don’t forget that, will ya?”

Carl gritted his teeth at that.

“We’ll be square once I kill you.” It was maybe the stupidest move he could have made but it was the one that felt right the most. There was no need in keeping his death wish for Negan a secret because it hadn’t been one from the beginning.

“You don’t wanna kill me. Not really. Keep tellin’ yourself that if it makes you feel better, but we both know you don’t want it. You had half an hour to shoot me with your gun with no one ‘round to stop you, but you fuckin’ didn’t. Think about that when you go to bed tonight.”

They were approaching the Sanctuary quickly now, and Carl fell silent until Negan parked the car. He stared at him in disbelieve due to what he had just told him. In a way, he was right, wasn’t he? Carl hadn’t pulled his gun, though he would have had every chance to do so. He felt stupid for it, and even more stupid for threatening Negan like that. But the man only shrugged, grabbed Lucielle, and got out of the car, looking through the open window at Carl who didn’t make an effort to move soon.

“Or me.”

Carl stared at him with an open mouth, his hands clenched at his sides. He wanted to draw his gun right now, but he couldn’t will his fingers to move. Not when Negan grinned at him, not even when he winked at him. And also not when he turned away and walked off, whistling happily.

When Carl had finally managed to get out of the car without destroying anything in the rage that was boiling inside him, he just disappeared to some quiet corner of the Sanctuary. By now he knew that whenever Negan or someone else wanted something from him, they would come and find him. He wondered what being assigned to Simon would entail, but he didn’t really have the nerve to think about it. He would know soon enough, not that he had any saying in it at all. He was only lucky that it didn’t seem to happen that day because it was getting late without anyone bothering him. Carl had picked a part where little people came by, but the few who did settled for ignoring him, and the rest of the day went by uneventful with a plain dinner, an early end to the day but a restless night.

* * *

 

The next morning Simon got him from his room. Carl had been awake since dawn, not being able to find a lot of sleep. So he had settled for an early shower and staring at the ceiling of his room. It was still a rather unfamiliar place, but whether he wanted it or not, this room made him feel secure in a way. Not once had someone intruded it and the possibility of locking the door was one of the greatest things. Even when Negan had visited, or when Dwight had retrieved him from his room, neither had invaded it but had waited for him to open the door. It was…nice. And definitely something he wouldn’t have suspected.

“You’re Carl, huh?”

Carl wasn’t sure what to make of the man in front of his room and his wide grin. He didn’t look as hostile as most people dealing with him at the Sanctuary, but he still wasn’t too sure about anyone here. He would have preferred to follow Dwight around some more. At least with him he felt as if he knew what was going on. Simon, in contrast, was unfamiliar to him. There wasn’t much he knew about him and he didn’t like that.

“That’s a real question or just some small talk?”

Carl couldn’t hide his reluctance and closed the door behind him. He didn’t care to lock it since there was barely anything personal in there. The only time he used the lock was when he was inside, and he wanted to keep people outside. He didn’t care about the room as long as he was gone. If someone would steal his worn clothes he was sure they would regret it anyway. Most of them had more holes than he could count.

Simon had his hands resting on his hips and didn’t seem pleased with his counter-question, but he didn’t seem all that angry about it either. They were probably both trying to test the waters here.

“Dwight warned me about your attitude. Anyway, I’m Simon.”

Carl eyed him suspiciously when he was offered a hand and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Was he supposed to shake it? He thought so and since the man didn’t seem to give up on that, he did it. Even though Carl didn’t get what purpose that served.

“We’re gonna check on some outpost today. Hope I don’t have to remind you not to do anything stupid?”

Carl just stared at him and Simon seemed to take this as a ‘no’ and moved down the corridor. By now Carl was rather familiar with the outline of the building and could have easily found his way outside on his own. He stayed about two steps behind Simon, not yet trusting the whole thing. He didn’t like the thought of being alone with this man, but the knowledge of having a weapon made it a bit easier.

They were driving for half an hour when Carl was sick of the silence and he needed to ask the one question that he had wanted to ask for some time now. He needed answers, but he hadn’t had the chance to ask Negan yet. So maybe Simon could provide the answers he wanted.

“Why is he making you do this?”

Simon looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, clearly confused by his sudden talking.

“What do you mean?”

Carl rolled his eye at that because he was sure the man knew what he was getting at. But if he had to spell it for him, spelling it would be.

“Forcing you to take me out. First Dwight, now you. That’s plain stupid letting me know all this. What makes him so sure I won’t use that knowledge? Contact those communities, wiping out your outposts again.”

If Negan had really told him the truth and would let him see his dad again, then it would be the easiest thing in the world to somehow let him know where to find those other people. He could tell him where to find weapons, the weakest spots in the security of the Sanctuary – not that there were many, but there were possibilities.

“I guess you should ask that Negan. I’m not the right person to ask that.”

Carl groaned, clearly annoyed by that answer, not buying the slightest bit of it.

“C’mon, by now I _know_ you are important. You are close to him, right? Closer than Dwight, probably. He trusts you. You know what he’s planning.”

“As do you.”

Carl fell silent for a moment, contemplating his words. Until now he hadn’t really thought that something as ridiculous as _that_ could be the true reason for Negan. He thought there was a hidden catch, some sort of untruth hidden. But then again, Negan tended to speak his mind, right? So maybe he hadn’t been joking about seeing potential in him.

“Thought so. I’m not sure if he’s right with what he sees in you, but it’s his decision. I’m sure you know what kind of opportunity this is.”

Carl shook his head. Not that he wasn’t aware of what this chance would mean, but rather that he wasn’t sure what to make of it. It made sense. Letting him see how they worked, telling him what good came from it, showing him how good life was this way. How good it _could_ be. It was a huge chance, but it also meant trading his people for whatever this here was or would become. On the other hand, it meant power. And that power could be used to destroy Negan, to make this whole thing a better place.

His head swam from all those revelations and thoughts that simultaneously craved attention. It felt like in the last weeks there had happened more than he could deal with and that feeling made him sick. He would have loved to talk to his dad, or Daryl, or Michonne. Anyone to share his thoughts with.

“You okay, kid?”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Carl growled through gritted teeth and his reaction seemed to impress Simon in whatever way because he stopped looking at him and didn’t say another word until they arrived at the outpost. The rest of the day they spent mostly ignoring each other and Simon could probably only imagine what kind of inner conflict Carl had to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha. I know it's been forever and I know this is a rather short chapter, but it was better to end it here and to continue with visiting Alexandria in the next chapter.  
> Thank you for still reading this, despite the long wait. :'3


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? You are what? 18? You should be all hormone-driven like that first time. Aw, don’t tell me you didn’t like that ‘cause I damn well know you did.”
> 
> “The fuck you know.”
> 
> “Oh, c’mon. Just admit it. What’s so bad about it? I won’t tell, you won’t tell…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Here it is. I am not fully content, but I will burst (and never fix it) if I won't post it now. Bear with me.

The next two days neither Negan nor Simon bothered Carl, so he started to help wherever he could. While wandering the Sanctuary he had actually met some nice people working there and he had offered them a helping hand. They had been reluctant, having seen him with Negan before, but after half a day most of them seemed friendly and even joked with him. It was probably the first time Carl felt somewhat good being there. He wondered why he hadn’t thought about doing this earlier, but then he reminded himself that so far, he had been kept busy following Dwight around. For him it was still a mystery why Simon hadn’t gotten him from his room yesterday, and not even today, but he dismissed that thought as soon as a little boy came to him, offering him some bread.

“For me?”

He gave him a smile and the boy only nodded shyly. Carl felt a little bad for takin it, having heard about the system they had and how little some of those people actually got – while he was fed twice a day - but he thanked him anyway. He knew from first-hand experience with Judith that not taking gifts from kids could lead to a lot of drama. And he wasn’t in the mood to cause any drama, not when being here felt nice after forever; not when those people had been nice to him despite his usual company consisting of people making them work long hours for barely any food.

It seemed to be the right thing because the little boy joined him on the floor and Carl managed to convince him to eat half of the bread while he settled for the other half. The kid’s father joined them, too, at one point and Carl started chatting with him. He found out they had been here for quite some time. Carl wanted to ask so many questions, but he didn’t want to sound rude, so he just listened to anything the man was comfortable with sharing. Apparently, he and his wife had come to the Sanctuary three years ago, their son barely being a year then. It was hard here, to work here, but they were grateful their child didn’t have to face the dangerous outside world. Carl’s heart clenched at that and he wished Judith could have that same luxury. He would have loved her to have a normal childhood, he wanted her safe. Of course, she was somewhat safe in Alexandria, safer than he had been a lot of the time since this hellhole had unfolded itself, but safe now didn’t mean the same as safe had meant back when he had been her age. Nothing was safe anymore. Especially not with the boiling conflicts between Alexandria and the Sanctuary. He never knew when she’d be in danger. It could be today, or tomorrow. All of a sudden, he had to think back to Sophia – someone he hadn’t thought of for a very long time – and he immediately was afraid that Judith could end just like her.

Carl excused himself and went outside to get some air, to clear his head. His heart was racing, and he just couldn’t bring himself to calm down. He wanted to see Judith, to make sure she was okay. He knew Rick and the others could manage somehow, but Judith was still so little and vulnerable.

There were guards outside, but they only eyed him suspiciously once before returning to their task of looking out for anyone being stupid enough to approach the Sanctuary. Carl wondered if they would stop him when he decided to take a walk outside the property, but he was almost sure they would. He had no idea what privileges he had but he also didn’t want to push it today.

He didn’t make it back to help those people out some more.

Carl was seated outside, leaning against the old factory wall, when someone he had seen a few times, but had never spoken to, towered over him.

“Negan wants to see you,” was all the middle-aged man said before walking off.

It was Carl’s cue to get up and follow him to the trucks around the corner. Negan was already there, bossing people around and having Lucille resting against his shoulder, putting on a show like he always did, even when there was really no one to impress with it. His eyes found Carl soon and he gave him an overly joyous smile. Carl wasn’t sure whether he wanted to punch it right out of his face or see it as a good omen.

“Carl.”

Negan’s arms were open wide, and Carl only frowned at that. He knew back when the world hadn’t been full of dead fuckers, Shane had always gestured like that. Then Carl had normally stormed right to him, burying his face in the crook of his neck while he was being lifted up. It had been such a kind gesture, something that had felt like home, but now it was only weird and maybe also slightly intimidating when Negan was the one doing it.

“What is it?”

Carl had his arms resting at the sides of his body, trying not to show his tension. He looked around, but he could neither see Dwight nor Simon nor that creep David. Only Arat was there and when their gazes met she nodded at him slightly. Carl wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but he got the feeling the women was about to warm up to him. At least she didn’t give him that look she had in the beginning. And somehow, she reminded him of Michonne. Only faintly, but still.

“No ‘ _Hello_ ’? No ‘ _How are you_?’? Kid, did your dad even teach you _any_ manners?”

Negan chuckled, and he had luckily stopped holding his arms up as if he expected Carl to give him a hug.

“Not towards people like you,” was all he dryly replied which made Negan laugh.

“We’ll see to that. Now hop in the truck, we will pay daddy a visit.”

Carl’s heart jumped at that, but he still tried to not show his emotions. He desperately wanted to see them, but it felt like he shouldn’t show Negan too much of any emotion. It seemed like the man was only waiting for any sign that revealed how he felt so he could feast on it or torment Carl with it. Negan always knew how to take advantage of anything, so Carl had decided to at least not giving him that.

So instead of showing his excitement he just walked over to the truck, passing Negan but not caring to look at or speak to him again, and took the seat in the middle. He assumed someone else would drive and Negan would take the passenger seat. And as it turned out he was right about that.

Arat drove them towards Alexandria and Carl felt more and more nervous the closer they came. He remembered the route there, had walked and driven it more than once in his mind. It had been more than three weeks when he had left home. He had no idea how much the Saviors had tormented his people, he had no idea whether someone had died while scavenging. He hadn’t heard a thing from anyone and that only added to his nervousness.

“Calm down, kid. No one’s dead to my knowledge and your daddy will freak out seeing you. He had fuckin’ asked for you every single time. Hah, he almost picked a fight last time.” Negan chuckled at after he said it, eying Carl for any reaction to that.

“I swear if you’ve hurt him…”

“Oh c’mon. I said _almost_. He didn’t, kept in line like a good dog so nothing would happen to his little son. He knows how to behave now. Maybe he’s not as much of a feral dog as I have thought.”

“Fuck you.”

Arat was looking at him, seemingly not thinking it a good idea to talk to their leader that way, but Carl didn’t care. He wouldn’t let him talk about his dad this way.

“Now, we should have a lil’ family gathering. There’s so much to talk about. Your behavior included.”

Carl looked at him in mild shock, afraid Negan wanted to talk about the things that had happened between them as a punishment for his disrespectful act. The nightly visit had been some time ago, and since then nothing had happened, but that didn’t make the two encounters less real.

“You said–“

Carl hated how panicked he suddenly sounded. So much to hiding his emotions to not feed Negan.

“I know what I said. And I still mean it. I can keep a little secret.”

Negan winked at him and out of the corner of his eye Carl could see Arat watching him for a second before turning her attention back towards the street. Great. He wondered just how much people had noticed. How many hints Negan had dropped, how often he had bragged about it in a casual way, how much was missing for people to see the whole picture. Carl really didn’t know whether Negan would do such a thing or not. He seemed like the bragging kind of guy, but he also seemed to know what he was doing most of the time.

Carl only nodded, hoping he meant it.

“And what is there to talk about?”

He tried to calm himself down, to focus on breathing evenly.

“How things will work from now on, how long you’ll stay, a little report about your behavior so far. Like a parent conference day, y’know?”

Negan’s tongue was showing when he gave Carl his standard grin and Carl felt a shiver running down his spine. He hated this man and how he seemed to have far too much fun with all this. Maybe he should just change the topic. He didn’t want to think too much about home right now, considerig how jumpy he was getting the more they talked about it.

“Why didn’t Simon show up yesterday? And today? Thought you said I’d be assigned to him.”

Negan’s expression dropped upon that mention and Carl didn’t know what to make of it. Did something happen to Simon and was that the reason why he didn’t make it?

“He’s busy.”

Carl frowned at that and was definitely confused as to this short answer. If anything, Negan loved talking, and such a short answer was more than uncommon. He wanted to push further, to know what it was he was busy with, but he already knew he wouldn’t get any more answers than that. He would only annoy Negan with it and he needed him in a good mood during the visit. Maybe that would help him to be allowed to stay in Alexandria, even if only for a night.

As it seemed, asking about Simon killed Negan’s talking mood for the rest of the drive, which didn’t fail to confuse Carl even more. But he decided to not think about it too much. No matter how hard he would think about it, it wouldn’t get him any answers.

Carl felt his heart pound in his chest so hard that he was afraid it was actually audible, but he covered himself with faked calmness. There was another truck that had been in front of them the whole time and it was David emerging out of it to demand the gates being opened. He had hoped that guy wouldn’t be with them. He had been so relieved when he hadn’t spotted him but apparently, he had already been in the car.

Carl’s eyes widened upon seeing the small town again, seeing familiar faces. He would have loved to jump out of the car that very moment, but Negan was blocking the way. He had to wait until Arat parked the car and Negan climbed out of it, handing Lucille to him. Carl knew he was doing it to put on a show, to show everyone how much he had Carl on his side. And it hurt that it wasn’t entirely wrong. Having Lucille pressed in his hand was one thing, a thing people could see was faked. But him having a gun and a knife was another thing. One couldn’t argue about that, it wasn’t something temporarily but a symbol for Carl being a part of them, no matter if he wanted to or not. He wasn’t wearing prisoner’s attire, no, in fact he was armed like each and every one of Negan’s men.

He didn’t fail to notice people’s gazes shifting from his face to Lucille and then to his holster. It stung to see people frowning at him. But then there was Rick walking down the street. Carl could see him stopping for a moment, staring, but then he walked over, faster and faster and at the end he was almost running. He was hugging Carl so tightly he was almost choked, and Carl was hugging him back, Lucille still in hand. He wanted to drop her, but he knew how much trouble that would get him into. He had missed this, couldn’t even remember the last time Rick had hugged him like that.

“You okay?”

Carl only nodded, not quite being able to form words.

“He didn’t do anything to you?”

Rick’s voice was barely a whisper as if he was afraid Negan would hear them. There was a hand tangled in his hair, and an arm wrapped around his upper body. Carl really couldn’t remember the last time Rick had hugged him like that. He guessed in an apocalypse there was simply no place for physical affection; not between father and son. Maybe not even between anyone. Until now he didn’t even know he had missed it.

“I’m okay, dad.”

Rick only reluctantly let go of him and when Carl turned he saw Negan eying him, smirking at them. Rick’s arm was still protectively wrapped around his shoulder, and Carl didn’t like the tension between the two of them one single bit. It seemed like only a matter of seconds before things would escalate.

“Aw, this is touching, isn’t it?”

Negan directed this questions towards his people, a few grinned at him, a few nodded. Carl saw Arat not doing any of that kind.

“You collect the stuff, while I’m going to have a talk with Rick here.”

Negan motioned his people to do their thing and they spread out to get the things they thought good enough to take. Carl looked at his father and he knew that expression. He was furious, but he wasn’t letting it out. Yet.

“Dad.” Carl had one hand on his shoulder, trying to get his attention. He knew if he kept staring Negan down, things would worsen, and he couldn’t have that. “Are Michonne and Judy home?”

Rick finally looked at him and seemed to need a moment to process that question before he nodded slightly.

“Then let’s go there, okay? Just… I’m okay. Really. He didn’t do anything.”

Carl was a bit surprised by how honest he sounded, at least he thought he did. He was lying to Rick and apparently doing a real good job because he relaxed a bit before he nodded once more. Rick eyed Negan again but turned around, walking close to Carl, leading the way. If he was upset about Negan following close behind – whistling provokingly - he wasn’t showing it.

When they arrived at the house, Michonne was standing on the porch with Judith in her arms, looking like a fierce lioness protecting her cub. Carl felt warm upon seeing her like that and upon the genuine smile she gave him. He was still holding Lucille, and he didn’t miss Michonne’s look, but she pulled him into a tight hug anyway. For the first time Carl dared to put the baseball bat away, carefully leaning her against the railing to take Judith in his arms. Maybe he just imagined it, but she was so much heavier and bigger than when he had last seen her. It was incredible. At least she still seemed to remember him, giggling, and playing with his hair.

“Isn’t that a sight?”

Negan’s low voice came from behind him and when Carl turned he saw him leaning against the porch, elbows resting on it.

“He even put my girl away for that sweet lil’ angel.”

Carl was relieved that he didn’t seem angry about it. Though he knew that with Negan one could never be sure.

“What does _he_ want here?” Michonne asked Rick but Rick just shrugged.

“I am here because I am _starving_. And while my men get the shit you got for me, how about we have a lil’ family dinner?”

Carl looked from Negan to Rick and then to Michonne. He nodded slightly when his dad’s eyes met his. Now wasn’t the time to cause trouble. All of them knew it, probably. Hopefully.

Michonne was the first one to enter the house, Carl followed her, then Negan, and Rick was the last one, closing the door shut behind him.

It was awkward. No, awkward was an understatement. Carl was nervously sitting on a chair in the kitchen while Michonne and Rick cooked. It wasn’t anything special, but since Negan insisted on having an early dinner with them, they did it. Carl had offered to help, but Rick had told him not to. Actually, Carl was glad because that meant he had more time with Judith. He knew he had to leave again and every second with his sister seemed too precious to waste.

Negan was seated at the table, too, making stupid jokes every now and then. Luckily neither Rick nor Michonne snapped at him, even though Carl thought - every time Negan made a remark - it would happen, but it never did. Negan even set the table and even though Carl didn’t want him to, he picked Judith up. All eyes were on him when he did it and there was so much tension filling the room, Carl imagined _feeling_ it. Negan had to sense that but if he did he didn’t comment on it, he only was adorable with Carl’s baby sister, having her in his lap, seated at the table again.

“Who’s a cute little bean? Yes, you are!”

Carl raised his eyebrow at that and Michonne met his gaze with the exact same expression. Neither of them was comfortable with him holding Judith. Only the little girl didn’t seem to sense what a man was making her giggle and laugh. But who could blame her? She was too young, she didn’t know what this man had done, how dangerous he was. Somehow Carl was also thankful for that. He didn’t want his sister to be afraid of people, he wanted her to have the most normal and boring life ever, not having to worry about mad men with baseball bats wrapped in barbed wire. Judith giggled incredibly loud when she touched Negan’s face, nearly poking her little finger in his nose. Carl held his breath. He was almost sure Negan wouldn’t do anything to her, but still he was protective, he was afraid he would anyway, no matter Judith’s age. _Almost sure_ just wasn’t enough to keep him calm.

And then it happened, her finger disappeared inside his nose. Everyone in the room had stopped doing whatever they were doing and just stared at the little one in awe. Rick appeared to be ready to jump Negan any second if he would only as much as look at her the wrong way. Carl was tensed up, ready to grab her and pull her away from the man. And Michonne had her hand tightly wrapped around the kitchen knife she had cut with only moments ago.

Negan went silent and it only added to the eerie atmosphere filling the room. But then there was a belly laugh, deep and honest and almost…affectionate.

"Reminds me when my lil’ girl was shitting her diapers. Those were the times, man. I envy you, Rick. You've really got it all. Better not let that go to waste."

Negan was looking at Rick, not making an attempt to get that little finger out of his nostril. He only held her and let her do whatever she felt like doing, patiently like he knew exactly what he was doing. The awkwardness was even heavier after his words, and everyone was staring at Negan, not able to find the right reaction to that confession. Carl couldn’t imagine Negan having a daughter. But maybe he had. Maybe one of his wives had carried his child. It wasn’t unlikely. But if so, Carl was sure he would have seen her. What was more likely was that it was a long time ago, before everything had gone to shit.

"Where's she now?" Rick finally broke the silence.

 "Dead. That's what happens when you don't stick to the plan, Rick."

That silent threat didn’t fail to shut Rick up again. Carl swallowed hard. The way Negan said it caused him a stinging pain in his chest. He didn’t sound sad or hurt, like he had accepted it a long time ago, knowing there was no way to change it anyway. He wanted to ask what had happened, when it had happened, what her name had been. But he couldn’t get a word out, couldn’t will his mouth to form words. Judith had removed her finger already, and was resting her head against Negan’s shoulder, yawning.

They spent the remaining time having their early dinner in silence, even less comfortable than before. Carl hadn’t thought this whole ordeal to be more awkward, but here he was, experiencing it firsthand. He wasn’t sure what he could tell Michonne and Rick without Negan getting the impression he was letting them know confidential information. Hell, he had no idea if he was supposed to say anything about his stay at the Sanctuary at all. So, he just kept quiet since it seemed to be the only thing that was safe enough to do.

“Hell, that wasn’t even that bad. I think I will come over more often to eat with you guys. Maybe Carl will accompany me then.”

“What do you mean?” Rick was staring at him, seemingly not getting what he meant by that.

Negan leaned back in his chair, Judith already back in Carl’s lap, taking a nap.

“I mean that Carl will come back with me. And if he’s behaving he can come back for a family dinner again. That’s what I mean, Rick.”

“You will not take my son with you again.”

It was obvious Rick wanted to threaten Negan, but everyone knew he had no leverage to do so. It wasn’t a threat at all, just a weak attempt to keep his son safe. Something he just couldn’t.

“Oh, won’t I?”

“No,” Rick bit back, almost growling that simple word.

The two of them were staring at each other and Carl felt the need to intervene again. It would be for the better of them all. He didn’t care about how this must seem. He didn’t care that it might look like he was picking Negan’s side. He hoped they knew that it just wasn’t the case.

“It’s okay, dad.”

All eyes were suddenly on him and he felt as uncomfortable as possible without Negan spilling the beans about the two of them. Michonne was shaking her head softly at him as if she wanted to tell him he didn’t have to do that. But he had. He had to do it, or worse things would happen. And he couldn’t have that. After all, this was something he had caused.

“I will come back.”

“Look at that. That kid never fails to impress the shit outta me. You see that, Rick? That’s what it looks like to have balls. That kid’s probably more a man than you are.”

Carl knew he shouldn’t feel proud hearing that, but he did. And he felt bad for it. But hearing those words from Negan made him proud, proud of doing something someone thought was brave or the right thing or just something one needed to have guts for. If he thought about it, Rick had rarely done that, and that thought hurt. What did he even see in Negan? What the hell was he expecting?

“Carl…”

“It’s okay, dad. Really. I will come back.”

He gave Rick a smile, but he knew it was probably not as convincing and reassuring as he wanted it to be. Michonne gave him a sad look but she didn’t say a thing. She was always rather watching, analyzing the situation when she was with Rick. They were a damn good team and Carl wished he had someone like her, too. He looked back to Negan and the man gave him a satisfied smile. Not like the mocking one, rather a really, really pleased one. Carl felt nervous all of a sudden for the way this look made him feel. It was wrong. The two of them could never be a team. It wouldn’t be right. Not in any reality, ever.

“Now that this is settled,” Negan began and made a tiny pause as if to wait for any complain but all Rick did was gritting his teeth, “it’s already late, so we’ll stay the night.”

This sounded to be too good to be true and Carl was already excited to spend a night back home, but Rick’s face was showing hostility. Carl was sure he would have loved to have him here, but he apparently didn’t like the implication that Negan would stay, too.

“I am sure you have another house for us, right, Rick?”

“Carl will not stay with you in one of our houses alone.”

“Sure, he will. Or I will take him with me right away. Do I have to remind you who exactly makes the rules here, Rick?” Negan’s voice was gravelly and threatening and Michonne put a hand on Ricks arm.

“It’s okay, dad. I’ll be okay.” Carl didn’t know how often he had used that phrase but by now it sounded either really convincing or not at all. Actually, he felt stupid for half his conversations with his dad consisting of those words. If Carl was honest with himself he wasn’t sure if it was okay or if he would be okay, but he hoped it. He had to remind himself that so far Negan hadn’t attacked him without a good reason – though he wasn’t sure there was something as a good reason; a relatable one maybe. And therefore, he was sure that if he wouldn’t give him a reason, he’d be alright.

Rick was unwilling to let Carl go into one of the empty houses with Negan but in the end, it happened. Negan ordered part of his people to leave and bring the things they had taken from Alexandria back to the Sanctuary, while he ordered the rest to take position around the house. No one complained that they would have a restless night while Carl and Negan got to spend it inside a comfortable home. The house had been empty for some time and there were a few things missing, but overall it was as nice as the one Carl had lived in.

Negan rested Lucille against the backrest of an armchair and looked around, whistling appreciatively.

“Now this is a damn nice house. I think this will be my own private vacation home from now on. What do you think?”

Carl only rolled his eye at that and dropped his backpack on the couch. He was glad that Negan had allowed him to fetch a few new clothes. Upon packing them, Carl had also found his hat in his room and had taken it with him. He hadn’t noticed that he had forgotten it when he had first left. Not really. Maybe in the beginning but it was a bit scaring how little he had cared. This hat was a symbol, wasn’t it? He should care more about it, yet he placed it on top of his backpack as if it was just another piece of cloth.

He would stay down here on the couch, no matter what Negan was planning or wanting him to do.

“What does it matter what I think? There’s a bedroom upstairs, I’ll stay down here,” he announced and looked over to the man, still standing somewhere between kitchen and living room.

“It fuckin’ matters what you think because I care about your damn opinion. And why’d you want to stay here when you can share a bed with me again?”

Negan was licking his lips and Carl’s stomach clenched at that. He wasn’t sure yet what this feeling meant, whether it was disgust or anticipation. When he didn’t answer to that – and Carl really didn’t know what to answer – Negan just continued.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? You are what? 18? You should be all hormone-driven like that first time. Aw, don’t tell me you didn’t like that ‘cause I damn well know you did.”

The older man was licking his lips again, seemingly enjoying the memory, and this time Carl knew his stomach turned because he couldn’t deny his accusation. He had. In a way.

“The fuck you know,” he snapped back, feeling betrayed by his own body for reacting the way it did. He was only glad that it wasn’t getting a hard-on, but rather his stomach doing crazy things the longer he looked at Negan. Though, if it wouldn’t stop a hard-on wasn’t all that unlikely.

“Oh, c’mon. Just admit it. What’s so bad about it? I won’t tell, you won’t tell…”

Negan let his words trail off and Carl only groaned at that, walking a few steps away even though the two of them were already far apart.

“You don’t even have to let me fuck you. Remember last time?”

Carl felt Negan’s gaze on him, seemingly sucking in every single motion, every single muscle twitching at the thought of the blowjob he had given him.

“I know you do,” he grinned, “how ‘bout another one of those? Damn, I don’t want to pressure you, but I sure as hell know you want it. It’s your call, though. Same goes for working with me.”

Carl’s eye locked on Negan’s, frowning slightly. He couldn’t quite tell whether Negan had phrased it that way on purpose. Working _with_ him, not _for_ him.

“That’s right. You really haven’t got why you followed Dwight around like a lil’ dog? All that shit I showed you? You’re the right one, and I want you to lead those people one day. Now, is this really new for you? Oh boy, here I thought you were a smart one…”

Negan chuckled but Carl could tell he meant every word. It was confusing, so damn confusing like everything Negan did.

“I am the son of your fucking enemy. Why on earth do you think _I_ was the right one? Or that I would even _want_ that.”

Carl was furiously walking up and down in the living room like some nervous animal. The couch was separating him from Negan and he was so happy it was.

“I have no idea why you are doing this. It just doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t. What you do is _wrong_. _How_ you do it is wrong. I don’t want to be part of that. This isn’t who I am. This isn’t who my father raised.”

“That’s bullshit. You don’t think it’s wrong. If you would you had already shot me, ended it. You _see_ it, don’t you? You _understand_ it.”

Negan was leaning against the wall, casually so. He wasn’t raising his voice the slightest while talking and it did its part to bewilder Carl.

“I don’t…”

“Yes, you do. And that’s why you are so angry. Because you want to take this chance. You want to be _part_ of it. Hell, you want to be my right hand. You want to help me with what I have built. That’s why you are here.”

“I don’t…”

“C’mon, Carl. Do you believe anything of that shit yourself? Fuck, kid. You want a safe world for you sister. You don’t want to fight another senseless war against me. How many have you lost because of that chaos? Huh? I’m not only speaking about me, about everything that has happened with any group. How many have you lost because there was no rules? Now you have the chance to end that shit. You can rule. You can make something better. Your dad? He doesn’t see shit. That’s why he’s plotting whatever crap he’s plotting right now. We both know he does, right? But you, you see the bigger picture.”

Carl shook his head. It was a childish act, but he didn’t want to hear that. Negan was right, he wanted to change something. And he was also right with that he thought Negan’s way might be the right way. Maybe not the _right_ way but the only way that could accomplish that. If Rick would kill him – if he would kill him – there would be chaos. More people would die, more people would suffer. Everything would go to shit faster than anything.

“Kid.”

When had Negan come over to him?

“Don’t call me that.”

“Carl.”

There was a touch on his shoulder. On both shoulders, holding him there, keeping him from pacing up and down the room. It was a soft touch, not a bruising, not a forceful one.

“You can change shit. All you have to do is take this chance. You know the reason Simon didn’t get you yesterday or today? He doesn’t see what I see. He’s pissed because some kid is about to get his position. Some kid that fuckin’ killed two people and still gets all the privileges. He’s pissed because you are about to be my right-hand man. And I don’t trust him with you anymore.”

Carl’s eye widened upon that confession and suddenly all those things fell into place and everything made sense. Still. It would be wrong to accept this. Or would it be wrong to not accept it? He was confused, he felt like he couldn’t do this on his own, like he couldn’t make such a decision on his own without a second opinion. He was an adult, he should be able to find an answer on his own, but he just wasn’t. He couldn’t.

He stared at Negan, trying to find out whether he was speaking the truth or not, but something inside him already knew he did. It made sense. And Negan didn’t seem like he was lying for whatever fucked-up reason. He was serious. Damn serious.

Carl bit his lip.

“I don’t know…”

He felt like he was carrying far too much on his shoulders. Fighting for his family was one thing, it always happened on instinct, surviving happened on instinct. But this was a conscious decision. Or at least it should be.

“Fuck, as much as I’d love a straight answer right now, I fuckin’ know how hard this shit is. I don’t expect you to throw your people away. Just to think about it. Hell. And if you decide to not do it? To kill me instead? I’m fuckin’ up for that, too.”

Negan leaned down to him and Carl didn’t let his gaze stray for a second. He could smell Negan, he was so close, he could even see his pupils being dilated.

“As long as it’s you I am up for any shit you think is a good idea,” he breathed, and the world spun, making Carl dizzy. Why would he offer him this much power? “You were raised in this world, you know how to survive. It’s your turn to put that knowledge to use.”

It was only moments later, when he was pressed against Negan, that he registered kissing him. He couldn’t tell whether he had been the one initiating the kiss, but he knew he was the one having his hands buried in the collar of Negan’s shirt. The kiss was desperate, all teeth and biting at each other. Negan groaned in his mouth and his hands were roaming his body, searching for leverage, to pull Carl closer, though there was no closer anymore.

Carl’s hands were slipping under the leather jacket and resting somewhere between his shoulder blades. It was an uncomfortable position with Negan quite a bit bigger than him. It was almost as if the man sensed that because he was lifting Carl up, making him yelp in surprise.

“Damn. You fuckin’ are somethin’.”

Carl felt his cheeks flush at that, though he had no idea why his words were more embarrassing than the hard bulge he felt pressed against his ass. He was clawing to the man, his legs wrapped around his waist to stay exactly where he was.

“Just shut your damn mouth.”

Negan chuckled but he was silenced only seconds after, when Carl leaned forward to cover his mouth with his already swollen lips. He still felt the vibration of his laugh but didn’t care all that much. What he cared about was that Negan began to carry him towards the stairs and all the way up. Not for a second did any of them try to break the kiss. It was a tiny miracle that they only twice bumped into something on their way, taking each as an opportunity to rest against the object and kiss only more fanatically.

Then there were hands on Carl’s sides – no longer steadying his ass - and he dared to open his eye to watch Negan retreating from the kiss and basically pulling him from his body, only to throw him onto the bed. It wasn’t made, there was only an old blanket on it, but it was nothing he was interested in wasting his time thinking about. It was a bed. It was all they needed. Hell, he would have even done it on the couch. Or at this point, the floor would have been more than enough, too. As long as it was Negan over him, doing those things to him.

“God, that sight is beautiful. Can’t believe how long you’d made me wait.”

Negan was tracing his lower lip with his tongue while he shrugged out of his jacket, throwing it onto the bed next to Carl before he lowered himself to reach for Carl’s pants.

“No one has ever dared to do that.”

“Will you just shut your damn mouth?” he repeated and was more than sick of having to say it over and over again.

Carl didn’t want him to talk to him, it still didn’t feel right – even though it somehow did. His mind was swimming from the lust flooding his body and Negan’s offer and his damn filthy words that weren’t even filthy in the first place. So why did he think they were? Maybe because everything he did had a dirty edge to it. Yeah, maybe that was why.

“Mhm… not gonna happen.”

Negan had finally opened and shoved his pants down. Apparently, he had enough decency to not rush it as much as to pull his boxers down along with them in one go. Ironically, Carl would have preferred it that way. He didn’t want to wait. Or was it just that he wanted to take the edge off as soon as possible? Whatever it was, it led him to reach for his boxers himself, exposing his aching cock without thinking about it twice, and that it would encourage another sneaky comment from the other.

“Someone’s _eager_ today. So, you’re a hormone-driven teenager after all, huh?”

Carl wanted to punch that smug grin right out of his face, but all he did was glaring at the man before reaching for Negan’s shirt to pull him farther down, covering his body with him. It was a pleasant weight that suffocated him along with the tiny hint of guilt tormenting him from the most hidden corner of his brain.

He managed to engage Negan in another heated kiss to distract him from making any more bothersome comments and instead concentrating on the task at hand. Carl had no clue how he knew what to do to play him like he did, but as it turned he was making all the right sounds and all the right moves to get Negan to give him what he wanted – and what Negan himself certainly wanted, too. He couldn’t remember the last time his body had felt so full, so itching, so…good.

Even before Negan made him come that night - painfully slow - he had already made his decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woops. Sorry for the cropped smut. I just...I don't know what's wrong with me but I couldn't write it. For those who want to know tho: Negan gave him another blowjob, Carl tried, too, then they stroked each other and Carl got a finger in his lil ass (Negan forgot to bring lube so there wasn't any more butt-action for the two of them - a finger was already quite a task for Carl with nothing more than spit). Negan got off watching him squirm beneath him, having his lovely, shaking hand tightly wrapped around his dick. Yeah. Maybe they played a second time that night.


End file.
